Pancakes with Pandemonium
by Kuriuss
Summary: The Avengers are hosting a massive two-day pancake competition. Thor decides to invite Loki along too, but fails to notice there is something wrong with his brother when he takes him from his cell in Asgard. Over the two days, the Avengers must try to help and heal Loki. Rated M for mentions and recounts of torture.
1. Chapter 1

***waves* Hallo! Welcome to my second fanfic ;) This one isn't really planned and I'm just going to see where it takes me, so enjoy! Just a warning - despite there being many pancakes, there is a serious undertone, so if you're looking for a light-hearted, sadness-free story, this ain't it! But you're welcome to read it anyway! Ehehe...**

The guards were just bringing Loki back in from wherever they had been – the library, most likely. Thor didn't spare it much thought. "Brother," he greeted him, trying to sound as if Loki wasn't in chains with a muzzle clamped around his mouth. His brother glared at him, then at the guards as they led him into his cell and carefully took the chains off him before retreating from the cell. Thor waited patiently, trying to ignore the way Loki's eyes were digging into him. Eventually, the guards left, and Thor started for the cell. "Well, finally you come to see me," Loki sneered, not giving him a chance to talk. "So nice of you. I suppose it only occurred to you now to visit, did it? What is it? What do you need?" Thor frowned. He didn't need anything, and he was a little hurt Loki thought that was the reason he had come here… but, he hadn't exactly been visiting his brother often. It would have hurt him to see him in prison – and perhaps that made him weak. "I don't need anything, brother," he told Loki somewhat pleadingly. "I'm not your brother," Loki countered fiercely, and the words pierced Thor. "So why are you here?" Thor decided not to show the hurt on his face – Loki might as well laugh at him. "The Avengers-" Loki snorted. "I don't want to hear whatever you have to say about them," he told Thor flatly. Thor glared at his brother until he shrugged and sat down against the wall of the cell, looking politely interested but nothing beyond that. Thor sighed. "They are having a contest, to see who is the better cook of pancakes. I thought you might like to come along. To watch, if you don't want to compete." Loki raised an eyebrow, then sighed and rolled his eyes. "No." Thor scowled. "I know the prison is comfortable, but-" Loki's eyes had narrowed at the words. "You think I like it down here?" he asked with obvious sarcasm. "You think I enjoy my time in prison? I said no because I have no wish to meet the people I fought against barely months ago. So, no." Thor decided to try again. "The all-father has already agreed," he ventured. "Thor, no. I don't want to go." Thor muttered something to himself. Loki was already angering him already – Thor wished to show him the mortals were not so bad, but Loki seemed adamant to be difficult. There was a petulant tone to his voice, almost as if his brother were sulking. "Thor, stop standing there glaring at the cell. You may go. Thou art dismissed." Loki waved an elegant hand at him and he scowled yet again. "You're coming with me, Loki. You won't be deprived of any comfort – we'll be keeping the chains." Loki saw his face and didn't argue as the guards were called back in to put the chains back on and led him to the Bifrost.

After that, Thor watched his brother carefully, but he didn't say another word, or even look at him. He almost smiled as he recognised the typical signs of Loki silently fuming, but the situation was a little too grave for that. Admittedly, Thor was more than a little hurt that Loki had so fiercely brushed aside his attempts to get him away from Asgard's lower levels for a while. Clearly, he did not wish for a reprieve in his time of imprisonment. Thor snorted. Some imprisonment, if he was allowed to go to and fro from the dungeon library – which was quite extensive – and had all the comforts he might need in his cell, even if it was rather plainer than his chambers and he had little to no privacy beyond his own illusions. Thor had the childish urge to run to Frigga and complain – but he pushed it aside. Instead, he watched Loki as they walked through the corridors. There weren't many people – Thor supposed Odin had had the corridors cleared. Though the guards remained, eyeing Loki distrustfully. Thor felt like yelling at them – _He walked among you, do you remember not? He was not so different then! Why do you look at him so, cowards?_ But it would not help. At least the guards leading him remained impassive. Thor would have liked to walk beside his brother, but the chains were in the way; he settled for walking a few paces behind him, watching his feet. At one point, he stumbled, and Thor was alarmed that he was somehow hatching a plan to escape, but nothing more happened and Thor assumed he had simply tripped. He must not have had much exercise beyond trips to the library, he reasoned, and thought nothing more of it. At least this excursion would be good for him – at that thought, Thor perked up. The avengers had been planning some form of contest for a long time now – eventually, Man of Iron had procured a large, spacious hall and declared it should be used for the glorious battle of foodstuffs. He had promised Thor a foodstuffs battle at the end – he wasn't sure how well he could cook, but he would very much enjoy a battle. And just a while before Fury and a small team of SHEILD agents had declared the place ready for the contest in a few hours, Man of Iron had joked he could invite Loki along. Thor had asked him, told him it might be good for his brother, and eventually Man of Iron had rather reluctantly agreed. Asking Fury was harder – but struck by the spirit of things, he had grudgingly allowed Loki to visit, but only for the contest and only so long as there was no chance of escape. Besides, Thor had reasoned, Loki had neither Tesseract nor Sceptre. Odin had been remarkably easy to convince – Thor had told him it would be good for Loki to get to know the mortals, that perhaps he might begin to see them more as equals, and feel some remorse for his actions. That and Frigga had persuaded him rather quickly, and here they were.

He was concentrating on the golden sword, and did not see the golden eyes as they exchanged a rather curious glance with Loki. They met Loki's eyes, and flicked briefly to Thor, before Heimdall opened his mouth slightly and his eyes widened in question. Loki shook his head subtly, and Heimdall frowned before shrugging slightly and turning to greet Thor. The whole exchange was slight enough it was unlikely the guards had noticed. Thor certainly hadn't. Heimdall gave a rather curt, "Thor," then turned to Loki. "Loki." He was still frowning slightly. Loki gave him a snarky grin which didn't quite reach his eyes and bowed as much as he could before the guards yanked him up again. Loki rolled his eyes at them. Thor sniffed slightly, eyeing the guards. Heimdall turned back to Thor. "Most of the Avengers are gathered, they will be starting within the hour. I suggest you go." Thor nodded then turned to the guards. Loki swung back and forth on his feet as they hand cuffed him and tied his feet with a length of chain he could just about walk with. A chain extended from the manacles and the guards handed it to him, but he waved them away. "Leave it," he told them, wanting to give his brother at least a little freedom. It was not like he would be able to run, with the meagre length of chain they had allowed him. They shrugged and took the length of chain, before Thor waved them away without another word. Feeling like a traitor, he fixed the muzzle to Loki's mouth. He would remove it later, he promised himself. Loki didn't say a word, or even blink, as he was putting it on. Thor sniffed again and turned, inclining his head slightly to Heimdall. "Ready?" the golden-eyed god asked, but he was already turning the sword and Thor barely had time to nod and grab onto Loki's arm before the Bifrost surrounded them. Thor loved traveling in the Bifrost – a kaleidoscope of colours and crystalline structures surrounded him. He noticed that Loki didn't seem to be enjoying it – he had stiffened under Thor's grip, and his mouth was set in a grim line, but Thor didn't have any time to ask about it before they were once again back on Midgard. Fury and the Man of Iron were waiting already, with Black Widow and Eye of Hawk standing some way away – the latter looking distinctly displeased. Captain America was someway away, bending over a motorcycle and looking rather frustrated. Banner was nowhere to be seen – Thor assumed he had yet to show up. They were outside the large metal building Man of Iron had procured of them, in a rather isolated area. Thor wasn't sure exactly where they were – he had relied on Heimdall. Fury immediately strode over to Loki, pointedly ignoring Thor, and tapped him on the shoulder. Loki turned, a quizzical and overly sarcastic eyebrow raised. Thor was, for once, glad he had the muzzle on. It would not do to infuriate everyone before the fight had begun. "No misbehaviour," Fury snapped at him, as if he were a dog. "Or I'll have Thor drag you right back to Asgard." Loki shrugged, but nodded soon after, as Fury began to glare at him. Fury got out a small square and, without touching Loki, attached it to the back of his hand. It whirred and clamped down on the skin. "It's a tracker," Fury informed him. "It will alert us if you manage to get it out, too, so none of that. The door will be locked and there's a heat sensor around it in case you try to escape, and we have other security measures in place too. You're not running off." Thor watched his brother look idly around, with a sort of disinterest common to him nowadays.

An uneasy silence ensued. Eye of Hawk seemed more than displeased and kept glaring at Loki – though he occasionally smiled whenever Black Widow leaned over to whisper something in his ear. Quips at his brother, most likely. Thor curled his fingers around his hammer at the hostility, but did nothing more. It didn't take long for Banner to arrive after that. He dismounted his motorbike and looked around almost nervously. "Oh, hey," he greeted Loki. "Tony said you'd be here." Loki sketched a bow, and it looked almost as if he were smiling under the muzzle, though Thor couldn't really tell. At least Banner had spoken to him, Thor thought. As the other Avengers greeted Banner and complained of his being late – "Honestly, Bruce, we were going to start without you," – they also said a curt "Hi" or "Hello" to Loki. He responded with a small nod each time. Man of Iron gave him a smirk and Loki blinked back cattishly, but other than that the exchanges between them were mostly the same – Eye of Hawk ignored him completely. And then they decided they would begin, and filed into the metal hall ((pun unintended ehehe)) one by one. Thor prodded Loki in before him, his brother glaring at him angrily as he did so. Thor spared a look around the building. It was mostly empty, but at intervals were Midgardian cookers and large cupboards Thor had no doubt were stocked with ingredients. For pancakes, Man of Iron had told him. They had something similar in Asgard – Thor had rattled off the ingredients and Man of Iron promised him they would be in his cupboard. Steve had shown him how to adjust the heat, and helped him grasp the finer concepts of cooking. By the cookers were also small beds should they wish to rest over the two-day contest. Thor noted that at the back of the hall there was a small cupboard, sleeping mat and an old looking stove. The cupboard had golden horns stuck onto it. Loki had spotted it; he didn't look amused. Thor heaved a sigh. That would be Loki's, then. He'd have to untie his hands. He hadn't thought about that – but it didn't matter. It would be safe enough with all of the Avengers here. They were gathering around Fury now – Fury having a small team of SHEILD agents behind him.

"We will be surveying the pancake competition from the balcony," Fury was saying. Thor looked up and sure enough, there was platform which ran around the walls, and a small set of stairs on the left leading up to it. "To make sure nobody is cheating. Here are the rules," and at this point Thor briefly glanced at Loki, who seemed to be paying little to no attention. He nudged him and Loki shot him a glance before looking over at Fury. "- exactly two days. We will be scoring the pancakes as we go along, you may make as many types as you like. This should be more than enough time for you, and you may choose whether your pancakes are to be served hot or cold. Now, no permanently maiming, knocking unconscious for longer than fifteen minutes, or killing the other contestants." Thor could have sworn a glance had been directed at a suitably innocent-looking Loki. "If you get caught stealing ingredients, twenty minutes penalty the first time, forty the times after that. So, if you steal, do it well. But we'll be watching." Fury gestured to the SHEILD team and they began moving to the metal stairs and filing up them one by one ((That one was intentional)). "Go to your places," Fury told them, and Thor practically dragged Loki down to the two end stoves. "Ta-da," Thor muttered as he took in the giant horns again. They looked like scrunched up newspaper sprayed with cheap gold paint. Loki shrugged and moved towards it, but Thor stopped him and took off the muzzle quickly, slipping it into his pocket in case he needed it later. Almost reluctantly, he took the manacles from an impatient Loki. As soon as they were off, he rotated his wrists and they clicked slightly. "Finally," Loki harrumphed, then turned and walked right away from the stove, into the very corner of the hall where he sat down, resting his head back against the wall. Thor opened his mouth, but Loki cut him off. "I told you, Thor, I don't want to be here. Leave me be. Go cook some… Pancakes." Thor shrugged and left him. If Loki wanted to sulk, he would let him. He'd only just got to his stove when Fury announced that they could begin.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you for the review, Jai Parker! I've sorted the spacing out for you, and realised I forgot to add an author's intro before posting it, so I plopped that in too ;) Thank you to all the people following so far! **

**The chapters will most likely be pretty short, like this one, and it won't be a very long story… But have it anyway ;)**

He had thought they would only be gone for a matter of hours, when Thor had taken him from the guards. But no – they were gone for two days. Two whole days. He paced up and down as his illusion sat in the corner, a smug look on it's face. He wouldn't be able to keep it up for two days, not without rest or using some of it to heal itself. He did not want the pity of the Avengers – pride was they only thing he had left. In Asgard's dungeons, his mind had cleared somewhat, and he had come to realise that though he had believed himself to be acting of his own… Thor had been right. He had been controlled by Thanos. And if he ever let his brother know, he would never been respected again. Even fear and distrust was better than pity – that shred of pride was all he clung to. He paused his pacing as the world span around him and he needed to lift a hand to brush against the wall, bracing himself until it was over. When his vision steadied, he turned and leaned with his back to the wall, looking over the scene in front of him. It had been… What, five minutes? It was already pandemonium. If only he had been in full health… But no. These people would never accept him. The Black Widow had already managed to floor Hawkeye, and was wrestling him for a frying pan. Thor was lumping all his ingredients unto an oversized bowl. No finesse whatsoever, Loki thought to himself, and in the safety of invisibility a small, regretful smile flitted over his face. But his brother could never love a frost giant, even though he still - to Loki's annoyance – called him Brother. Banner… Banner seemed to have teamed up with Iron Man, and together they were making fast progress in stealing the batter of Hawkeye. Captain America… Loki despised the man. Not through his own fault, but because he was surrounded by an aura of belonging, and accepted and loved everywhere. Everything Loki was not, and wished to be. But that did not matter. He seemed to be an excellent cook, and was quickly heating the stove and readying his pan.

"They're stealing my batter!" screeched Hawkeye, throwing off Nat and leaving her with the frying pan as he ran after a giggling Iron Man and Banner. Loki looked up and saw Fury surveying the scene, raising a strange instrument to his mouth – which greatly magnified his voice as he spoke. "Once the stuff is out of the cupboards, it's everyone's! Apologies for not making that clear! You better make some more, Barton! And one more thing – completed pancakes are not to be stolen under any circumstances!" Loki rolled his eyes as the downcast assassin made a rude gesture at an oblivious Iron Man's back. Banner noticed it and snorted, before turning back to Iron Man and helping him pour the batter into the heated pan. Then the dizziness swung through him again and he knew he wouldn't last more than a few hours. He needed to build up his strength. He didn't bother casting more illusions – he made the one in the corner vanish, causing a low murmuring from the agents above them, but kept himself invisible. "Loki?" called Thor, but he couldn't be bothered answering. He opened the door to his foolishly decorated cupboard, and heard Thor give a sigh of relief, before a string of curses erupted from his dear not-brother as his pancakes began emitting large quantities of foul-smelling smoke. Inside the cupboard… The usual. Flour, sugar, and in a second, colder compartment, milk and eggs. Fruit was there too. The thought of eating made him feel sick. He had been for so long without food that he didn't think it likely he would be able to stomach it any more. But for the sake of his pride, he had to try.

It must have looked to the others as if many ingredients were suddenly floating over to the bowl on the small table next to his stove. He noted Iron Man and Banner whispering as they looked over at him. Thor was trying in vain to save a burned scrap of something that certainly wasn't a pancake – he didn't spare a glance for Loki. Banner was pointedly ignoring him – Black Widow was doing the same. Captain was flipping a perfect pancake, and Loki raised an eyebrow at how skilfully he did so. Though it looked like Black Widow had set her sights on his smooth batter – she was sneaking over to him. She didn't get very far before Barton called out, warning Captain America of the incoming insect, as he put it. Loki shook his head and began preparing a batter for Asgardian flat cakes. Not unlike pancakes, but less sweet and more like a good bread. Plain, but good. Perhaps he would put a little fruit in the middle, as Frigga always had. Loki sighed. Frigga had often – in illusion form – visited him, but even she had never suspected what they were doing to him. Perhaps she didn't even care. Most of the time, it felt like nobody did. He got some strawberries from the cupboard, and wondered how he might cut them. He hadn't been given a knife. He frowned and looked around. Everybody else had. He snorted, annoyed, and decided he would simply have to get one for himself. But the stupid tracker, they would not let him take one. He considered taking it out, and examined the skin on his arm. They said they would know if he did so. But he didn't want to escape, he just wanted some strawberries. He cursed under his breath and dug his fingers around the tracker. It came out easily, though his arm was a little more blood splattered than before. Immediately, Fury began shouting through his strange device. "Loki has removed the tracker! I repeat, the tracker has been removed! All hands on deck! Find the Loki!"

The room erupted. "I knew it," he heard Barton hiss. He kept as quiet as possible as Black Widow began scouring the room – she would be a nightmare to stay away from. "The heat sensor will be functioning in five minutes!" called Fury. "Why the hell wasn't it functioning before?" yelled Stark, already grabbing a small case presumably containing his iron man suit. He had until Stark got it on – he had no doubt the suit would be able to find him easily. He darted over to Thor's table – Thor was shouting his name and blundering around Loki's work-table with outstretched arms. The knife was on the edge of the table, unused. He grabbed it, then turned and almost ran into Captain America. He almost thought he had avoided him when the Captain's hand brushed his arm and he called out, "Here!" But by the time the others had arrived, bar Black Widow who was still scowling around the room, he had reached the safety of his own workspace and clamped the tracker back onto a different part of his arm. "Connection re-established!" yelled Fury, then repeated himself through the voice-magnifying device as the Avengers did not heed him. "We have his location! Loki! The hell do you think you're doing?" Loki had to try for a sarcastic drawl, something he had been practising for a long time and could manage quite well. "Apologies, director. It must have fallen out. I've taken the time to put it in _properly._" Thor growled something incoherently and turned back to his second burned pancake. The rest of the Avengers scowled and raced back to their own positions, but even Captain America did not manage to save his charred pancake. Loki smiled grimly and began cutting the strawberries. Even Fury, seemingly disgusted with him, did not notice the knife. Good – he might even need it for the blueberries. Just in case, he spared some of his precious strength and hid it from view again. And when he looked down at it, he wondered why he didn't just kill himself there and then, and spare himself from a long death. Perhaps he just wanted to taste true Asgardian food again; then he could let himself rest. But first… The blueberries. He decided to cut them into quarters. Then he would fold them into the dough-like batter and fry them.

He'd only gotten through the strawberries and about half the blueberries before he noticed Captain America almost right next to him and slowly laid the knife down on the table, the handle clicking slightly as it came into contact with the table. "I don't think you're supposed to have that knife," Captain smiled. He did not look angry. For a moment, Loki was lost for words. Why wasn't ha angry? He shrugged it off. "I needed to cut the fruit. And I have my doubts that Fury will allow me near a knife," he told him smoothly after the moment's too long pause. Captain huffed out a small laugh. "Most likely not, no. But you're not exactly gaining any trust by taking the tracker out." Loki shrugged, then realised he was still invisible. "Perhaps not," he said. "But nobody will trust me, no matter what I do. What point is there in trying?" Immediately after uttering the words he frowned and cursed at himself. He was too weak to lie convincingly, he knew that, but he could have stopped himself talking as much. As if Captain needed to know he regretted what he had done – it was unlikely the emblem of honesty and patriotism would believe him, anyway. He picked up the knife and began cutting again. Click. Click. Click. Captain was still there. Click. Click. He laid the knife down again. "What?" he snapped, a sudden fear rushing through him as the world started to spin again. He would not be weak in front of an avenger – but the world didn't steady, and he had to grab onto the edge of the stove, fervently wishing Captain would leave. He was frowning, looking in Loki's direction. "It's always worth trying, Loki," he was saying. "I think you'll find us mortals are a lot more accepting than you might think." And he gave a soft, sad smile before walking back to his stove, then running as he noticed Black Widow carrying a ladle-full of his batter. Loki sank to his knees, gasping as confusion and pain lanced through him. His arm was twisted upwards, and he brought it down to the floor, but in the process knocked the knife down. He didn't have the strength to move his hand quickly enough, and the blade nicked his palm as he brought it down heavily on the just-fallen knife. It was only a twinge of pain, but it was enough to clear his senses, enough to wash away the dizziness and allow him to stand, slowly, carefully, and wash the knife of his blood before continuing.

He wrapped some of the fruit mix carefully in some of the dough before setting the small bundle on the table top and bringing out a pan and some oil. Thinking about fire made him shudder, but he ignored the small trickle of fear and quickly lit the stove. He watched yet another fight between Black Widow and Barton with no small amount of amusement as he waited for the oil to heat. He moved in front of his oven that he might have abetter view, and leaned against it. Banner and Iron Man were decorating a pile of pancakes with fruit and cream. Thor was… Loki wasn't sure what Thor was doing, but the smoke didn't look good. Captain was brandishing a ladle at the brawling Hawkeye and Widow who were coming slightly too close to his workstation. Seeming to give up on watching them, Captain instead flipped his pancake and stood nervously over his batter – which was nearly gone. His finished pancakes were being layered, Loki noted, with mashed fruit, cream, and chocolate sauce between each pancake. Loki flinched as the oil popped behind him, then checked it and decided to give it another minute, just in case. He turned back around just in time to see Captain delicately place the pancake on the top of his pile, and Black Widow grab the currently unused pan with a pair of oven mitts - Loki had no idea where they had come from. Barton produced his own oven mitts and tackled Black Widow. Captain ran after them waving his ladle threateningly. They were right next to Thor's station when Barton manages to grab the pan, turned sharply, and flew into Captain America. The hot pan hurtled up into the air, and Loki was again too stupidly weak to get out of the way quickly enough. It hit him in the shoulder – which wouldn't have been so bad, had it not been accidentally thrown with enough force to knock him backwards, the rim of his own pan pressing into his back. He couldn't help loudly crying out in pain as the two pans burned his flesh, and for a few awful moments he lost concentration and his illusion of invisibility vanished. The hot pan tumbled away, and he slid down to the floor, invisibility back in its place, as the room stood still in shocked silence.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank ye for all reviews and follows so far!**

"Loki?" Thor asked somewhat hesitantly. Then, when he did not deign to reply, "Loki!". Loki blinked from his position on the floor and tried to muster the strength to drag himself upwards. He hoped the illusion hadn't slipped for too long… His shoulder. His back. They must be burnt – again. The heavy pan also seemed to be leaving what he was sure would turn into yet another remarkable bruise. He still didn't answer until Thor stepped forwards. "I'm here," he hissed, trying to sound unshaken, but the shock of the pain weakened his voice. But the pain wasn't even so bad, it was the memories it evoked. He was weak; he was a fool. Burnt by a frying pan and crying like a child, almost, about it. He finally succeeded in dragging himself up and walked around to the other side of the stove, wincing with each step. The magic healing his leg was coming apart, soon he'd be nothing but a bloodied hunk of meat on the floor. But an invisible, bloodied, hulk of meat on the floor. Thor was saying something else, but he wasn't listening. Instead, he held a hand over the pan – unnecessary – and found the oil hot enough. He dropped the flat cake onto the pan, and it sizzled. He didn't flinch at the sound. Good. "Loki!" Thor shouted again. "What?" he snapped, irritated that he wasn't being _left alone._ "Are. You. All. Right?" Thor asked, pronouncing each word slowly and seemingly through gritted teeth. Then, the illusion hadn't slipped for too long. They hadn't had time to see him properly. Hadn't had time to see he really wasn't _all right_, as Thor had put it. "Why would I not be?" groused Loki. "I'm fine." When he looked up, Thor seemed worried. But behind him, Barton seemed even more so, to the point that he was about to say something. Loki used a spatula to turn the flat cake, even though it wasn't ready to be turned yet, not wanting to touch it with his hands, and one by one the Avengers went back to their stoves, each casting an oddly confused or apologetic glance in his direction. Even Thor went away eventually, until only Barton remained. He walked around the stove and Loki stilled, even though he knew he was invisible. But Barton looked him right in the face. "I saw you," he said, frowning. "Just…" He paused and frowned even deeper. Loki didn't move. Of course Barton would have had plenty time to see exactly what he looked like, he was one of the best archers Loki knew. "Did you… Was it you? Really you?" Barton asked. Loki understood the question. For once, he decided to tell the truth. It would make him look weak, pathetic, but he owed it to Barton for what had happened to him. "I thought it was," he whispered. "At the time, I thought it was me." He didn't even look at Barton then, but if he had, it was understanding and not pity on the archer's face.

Barton left mere seconds after, when Black Widow stole most of his batter. Loki managed to cook the flat cake perfectly, and immediately set about making another. The others ignored him after that – Barton and Thor occasionally sent him worried glances whenever they hoped he was not looking, but that was about it. After a while, the commotion around him disappeared to nothing and he was perfectly focused on his work, the feel of the dough and the careful stretching around the fruit that it might not tear, the sizzle as he dropped each cake in the pan, and when he turned them. Every one of them he managed to cook to perfection. It was too soon when he dipped his hand in the bowl and found there was no more dough. He didn't feel like eating anything, but he knew he had to, if only for the sake of his illusion. _Cream,_ he thought to himself. That would be nice with the Asgardian flat cake. He'd only just squirted a nice amount of whipped cream over the top when a strange horn blew from above and he was forced to enter back into the real world, rather than the dream-like reality he had felt like he were living in. "Stop!" Fury shouted, and the action around the room ceased. Loki set down the can of whipped cream and listened half-heartedly. "It's ten o clock. For the next four hours, there is to be no moving from your positions except for the toilet. During this time, we'll be coming down to sample your pancakes. Steve, we got yours hot, so you can rest for now. Tomorrow at midday and midnight are the next two, and then in the morning we'll have a food fight. Are you all happy with the plan?" Nods ensued, and everybody separated out to their respective positions. Ten o clock… They had arrived a few hours after midday, judging by the position of the sun when they were outside. They had been here aybe five, six hours. It had not felt so long – but now that he was aware of himself, his magic was down to its very last threads. He cursed silently and looked up to where Fury was coming down the stairs. He came to Loki first, much to his surprise. He didn't say anything, just moved out of the way. "What do we have here?" Fury asked, looking down at a small device he was holding and then turning to Loki's approximate direction. "Asgardian flat cakes," he replied. Fury raised an eyebrow. "Not pancakes?" he asked slightly suspiciously. Loki shrugged invisibly. "I was hungry. I wanted something a little more filling." Lie – he wasn't hungry in the slightest for all his starved frame, and felt a mere look at the food might make him ill. Nonetheless, he did try to sound bored and vaguely sarcastic. "That was a nasty hit with the pan," commented Fury as he began dividing up the flat cake, scowling appreciatively at the fruit spilling out of the middle. "I'm sure it was an accident," Loki told him smoothly. Fury puffed out a breath through his nose. "By which I mean, are you all right? Do you need anything for the burn?" Loki flinched and was glad Fury did not see it. "I'm fine," he told him, but his usually flawless ability to lie faltered and he ended up saying it in a low, near-shaking voice.

Fury pursed his lips. "Loki, I didn't see you long enough to pick up on any details, but you don't look good." Loki backed away a step. "I'm fine," he hissed again, and Fury looked up, evidently concerned. "Noooo… I don't think so," he said slowly, shaking his head. "Can you take off the illusion for me?" Loki was quiet for a while, trying to recover himself. He had been a fool to let the illusion slip, now they would all think him weak, a fool. "The illusion stays," he said as firmly as he could manage, a hand reaching up to his chest. Fury took a mouthful of flat cake and nodded appreciatively. "I like these things," he told Loki, then, "At least let me look at the burn where the pan hit you." He drew out a small bag. "I brought some… They're like big round plasters, but cold. They'll help the burn, keep it cold." Loki drew in a small breath. The burn was stinging, true. And if it meant he didn't have to use his magic to ease the sting… He reluctantly pulled off his harshly woven prison top and carefully withdrew part of the illusion around the nasty-looking burn, a big red mark surrounding it. Fury sniffed as he looked at it, then took out a large circular plaster-like thing – Loki had never seen one before – and carefully stuck it over the burn. "There," he said when he had finished. Loki brought a hand up to it and felt it. Fury was right – it was cold, and relief on his burn. "Thank you," he murmured, automatically without thinking. It would not do for them to think him polite, or glad of the help, he counselled himself. He was not a charity case. Fury seemed about to go, before his brow suddenly creased. "What's this?" he asked, pointing to an ugly red scar just visible where the illusion had slipped a little further than intended. Glancing down at it, Loki saw it had barely healed, and drew the illusion back over himself. He didn't answer Fury, and eventually the confused-seeming mortal left to go see Thor. Loki quickly put the Asgardian prison top back on. He didn't want to look at his scars, didn't want the reminder of how he had gotten them and why. He stood, invisible, without moving for quite some time, one hand still raised to his chest and the other limp at his side, before finally taking a few steps towards the table and sitting down. The flat cakes looked good, well made. Reluctantly, he cut a small piece off and put it in his mouth. He could barely force himself to swallow.

He was tired, so tired. Of everything. He watched as Fury reluctantly scraped some of Thor's 'pancakes' onto the smallest spoon he could find and swallow grimly. Then he moved on and eagerly sampled Banner and Iron Mans' pile of neat pancakes drizzled with sauce and fruit. Barton's pile was small, and though he had no pan on his stove, Black Widow had two and a much larger pile of pancakes that would have looked wonderful to Loki if he had been able to eat anything without feeling sick. Captain America was standing off to the side, eating his own pancakes and watching Fury. His flat cakes might have tasted good, but Loki coughed at the unfamiliar feel of food in his stomach, and a wave of dizziness crashed over him. "Loki?" he heard Thor ask, but he didn't reply. Not even when Thor called yet again. This time, the world didn't want to stop spinning. He tried to stand but fell heavily, and gasped in pain. His magic was coming undone. He stopped trying to stand, slumping down on the floor and closing his eyes in defeat. He kept the illusion steady and listened to Fury as he started to speak, voice loud and harsh in Loki's ears. "Until two in the morning, I want no stealing or fighting. You are allowed to make some batter during this time, but no frying pancakes. Those of you who want to rest, now is the time to do so. It's a ceasefire. Feel free to move around and talk if you wish." Loki could make out Thor's heavy footsteps, and lighter ones too. They were coming this way, coming to speak to him or laugh at him, or something… He wasn't sure who the second person was, but his magic was beginning to take from his limited body reserves, and it _hurt._ And just like last time, the pain sharpened his senses somewhat, washing away the dizziness, and he managed to roll to his feet with the help of the wall behind him. It was Thor and Captain – and behind them, approaching quickly, Barton. Loki swallowed dryly. "Loki, where are you?" asked Thor roughly, looking around the small area. Loki leaned his head back against the wall and said nothing. Barton arrived and tapped Thor on the shoulder. "He's _there,_" he told Thor, pointing carefully. "There's a little ripple in the air." Damn Barton and his incredible eyesight. Loki could do nothing more than hold himself upright as Thor stalked over and on his second try managed to place his large hand on Loki's chest and push him back against the wall with surprising force. "Brother, what is going _on _with you?" he asked almost desperately, face titled to the side like a puppy who knows it's owner is hurt. Loki blinked twice. "Should there be anything wrong, brother?" he asked smoothly, innocently, somehow managing to do so without a tremor in his voice. "Show yourself," Thor hissed. Loki huffed a small laugh. "No."

Thor's hand found his throat and Loki had to struggle to breath, gasping slightly. A small noise escaped him, and he tried to push Thor's hand away. The pressure loosened slightly as Thor realised he was choking Loki a little too much. "Show yourself," he growled again. Agony began shooting through Loki as the magic keeping his wounds closed and healing unravelled and went into the illusion. Hot blood began to trickle down him and his leg threatened to buckle. He tried to hold the pain at bay, but as soon as Thor moved his hand from Loki's throat to his upper arm, Loki realised that he had started trembling lightly under his brother's grip. He forced the tremors still, mostly unsuccessfully, and tried weakly to push Thor away. His brother's hold was strong. Loki's desperate push couldn't move him. Oh, his unmovable brother… But he had missed Thor, missed his brother. He hadn't thought Thor cared, and perhaps he didn't, but now Loki didn't care either. He went from fighting his brother to stilling under his grip and then clutching his brother's strong, large arm and leaning his head against his shoulder. Though he couldn't see it, Thor's face was the perfect mix of confusion, tenderness, and concern for Loki. He slowly brought his other arm up and Loki felt it settle around him. He hadn't embraced his brother in such a long time, his muddle mind thought to himself. The pain was building. Slowly, he let the illusion disperse. Even slower, the magic holding his wounds together. He didn't have the strength to hold onto it any more. His legs gave way and it was only Thor holding him upright. His brother didn't let him go in disgust when he saw his brother in the state he was in. He simply drew in a small, sad breath and held him all the tighter as he lost consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

***whispers* Hallo... People. Thank ye for all the shiny shiny reviews :3**

Thor gazed down at his brother in utter bewilderment for a few moments after Loki turned limp in his arms. Behind him, the other Avengers murmured to one another, but he paid them no heed, laying Loki down on the floor and frowning at the blood trickling from under him. He prodded it and it was real enough. He couldn't sense an illusion – or rather, he could sense a lack of an illusion where previously there had been one. The blood was spreading alarmingly fast. He didn't know what to do. He stood and watched helplessly and Black Widow, shouldering him aside, kneeled down by his brother and cut away his woven top. "My _god,_" whispered Banner, standing to the side with Man of Iron, as Loki's skin was revealed. Not much of it was smooth white skin. He was covered in scars and brutal marks that looked terribly recent. Awful red whip marks, burns, strange scars. His wrists were swollen and cracked, covered in red scabs, as if he had been pulling hard against metal manacles. Thor had to grab the nearby chair and sit down, because a terrible realisation was hitting him. "Thor," asked Black Widow carefully. "What exactly did they _do _to him in Asgard?" He looked up and five grim faces turned to him. "I do not know," he said helplessly. "I was not aware of any of this," he elaborated, and looked at his brother. Black Widow was looking up to where Fury was hurrying down the stair with a bag in his hands – Thor hoped they contained medical items that might help his brother heal. When Fury arrived, almost running, he didn't wait for explanations before kneeling down next to Black Widow and opening the bag. It did indeed contain bandages and salves and Odin knew what else. He watched anxiously as they set about cleaning the numerous wounds – Banner, recovering from his shock, eventually joining in and helping bandage his torso. When they were done, they lifted him and carried him carefully over to the wall, Man of Iron producing a bedroll for him. When he asked, Black Widow assured him his brother would be fine, he just needed some time.

There was only a day and a half of the contest left before Odin would be expecting them back. Thor didn't think Odin knew of what had happened, or he would not have allowed Loki for this brief visit to earth. But there was nothing he could do, and they did not _have _time! He paced around his oven, knowing sleep was futile. Eye of Hawk was speaking with Fury, and had been for quite some time. Everyone else seemed to be snatching a few hours sleep – except Black Widow, who was finishing up some batter. Man of Iron, uncharacteristically enough, had volunteered to sleep near Loki should his condition worsen. Thor gladly agreed, feeling like a traitor for not doing it himself, but he couldn't look at the scars or even the bandages without shuddering and wanting to bring down everyone who had had a part in this. The guards, he thought to himself. The guards had turned on the man who had been their prince. Thor fumed silently, but until the contest was ended, he could not go to Asgard. He would appeal to Odin. The guards would be discharged. He would discharge them himself if he had to. But for now, he paced and paced, then mimicked Black Widow and began furiously mixing up more batter – deciding this time to add a little less flour in the vague hope they would burn less easily. He could not cook, he thought angrily to himself. And he was a useless brother. He slammed the bowl of badly mixed batter into the cold part of his cupboard, muttering low curses to himself, before turning around and realising that Fury was watching him. He sniffed quickly and blinked. "Yes?" he asked Fury.

"Loki may have been innocent in the battle of New York," Fury stated bluntly, and Thor grunted a breath and stepped back as if the words had been a physical blow. Unable to muster words, he motioned to Fury to carry on. "Barton says he spoke to him, and Loki told him, in a somewhat roundabout way, that he had been controlled – in much the same way Barton had." Thor frowned and nodded, waiting to see if Fury had more to add on. He did. "If this is true… Will his sentence in Asgard be lifted?" Thor considered it. If they played their cards right… He nodded slowly, but with a frown. Only a small chance. Fury nodded and left quickly, leaving Thor to think. So, his brother had been controlled, most likely. Thinking back… It was entirely plausible. Loki had seemed oddly weak during the attack, and had made strange, badly thought out moves. Not like his diplomatic, mischievous, and clever brother at all. He wondered what had happened to Loki after he had fallen. He hoped to Valhalla that his brother had not been tortured there, too. Tortured. Such a harsh word. But there was truth to it, he thought, as he looked over to where his brother was lying. But how to convince Odin… He doubted Loki would allow their father entry into his mind, if he had waited until the very last minute before revealing the state he was in. Perhaps… He wondered if Heimdall had seen anything. He would return to Asgard alone, he told himself, and ask. Perhaps Odin would consider releasing Loki from his sentence. But then… Thor didn't think his brother would wish to stay on Asgard as a prince, with those who had beaten him so badly. In fact, he had a sneaking suspicion Loki would rather remain in the dungeons. He sighed and rubbed his forehead miserably, before returning the batter to the table and concentrating on eking out every single lump he could find, and then just stirring and stirring until eventually, his arm grew tired and his head grew heavy, and he shoved the batter into the cupboard just for a few minutes while he rested, five minutes perhaps, not more than ten… He was asleep as soon as he sat down and rested his head in his arms, worn out from the constant frustration of pancake making failure, and thoughts of what had happened and what still could happen to Loki.

When he awoke, it was because Man of Iron and Banner seemed to be having an epic fight with Black Widow and Eye of Hawk – the latter two, for once, pairing up. Thor noticed Captain at the far end of the room sneakily borrowing a frying pan from Black Widow's stovetop, which was not yet lit, although the oil was standing ready on the side. He looked to the side, and saw Loki in exactly the same position as they had laid him down in. Thor frowned sadly, but then quietly stood, and surreptitiously began to light his stove and heat some oil. It was unlikely they would even try near his batter, judging by the previous day – but when he took it out, it was completely smooth, and he recalled the furious mixing of the night before. He tried to act as he had before, sniffing over his mixture as if it disgusted him – and neither Black Widow nor Eye of Hawk spared him a second glance – the former choking Man of Iron and the latter wrestling Banner to the floor while reaching for their batter. Both Banner and Man of Iron were taking their evident defeat in remarkably good humour, laughing near uncontrollably. The oil heated quickly and when Thor deemed it just a little too cool – he always misjudged it and let it overheat – he added just one ladle full of mixture. No pouring the batter in straight from the bowl - he had tried that before, too. It gave a satisfying sizzle, and he looked up, immensely pleased with himself. Banner was wandering over in his direction and he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the doctor – who raised his hands a little as he approached. "I'm just going to check on Loki," he murmured quietly, and Thor nodded his assent before carefully turning the pancake with a spatula – not even trying to replicate Captain America's perfect flips. Thor rolled his eyes. It was quite evident the Captain was most likely to win this contest – but just wait until the food fight! A small pop as an air bubble escaped his pancake and he started, looking it over carefully and deeming it ready. It slipped easily from the pan onto the empty plate, and Thor gaped in astonishment. It wasn't burned. It didn't seem undercooked. He rushed to his cupboard and thought carefully. Fruit. He would add flavour with fruit. He did not want to risk making another pancake, so he set the pan aside for the time being and worked on decorating the one that he did have.

Bruce looked down at the god lying prone in front of him. Just before Fury had gone back up to the agents on the landing, last night, he had traversed around the room and as he had with Thor, had briefly explained to them what Clint had told him. Looking at the guy, Bruce found it easy to believe. "No hard feelings, dude," he whispered to himself, fingers busily checking Loki's pulse – weak, erratic, but there and definitely stronger than yesterday. He nodded to himself and then rolled Loki over gently, checking the bandages. The blood had only just seeped through, in a few places, but the flow seemed to have stopped for now. Bruce grimaced at the thought of removing the bandages later. Tony had reported that Loki's pulse had evened out somewhat as he slept, and was a fraction stronger than it had been, but he was weak and when he awoke, would be likely to be in a bad mood, because of his stupid pride. That he had waited so long to reveal his state… Well. Bruce shook his head. Why would Loki do such a thing? Then he pursed his lips. Of course, he knew the answer to that. Pride again – in the stupid Asgardian dungeons Loki had been stripped of his dignity alongside most of his skin. He must have felt a small scrap of pride was all he had left – and of course, people like that tended to avoid pity at all cost. Even if it wasn't pity but genuine concern he felt for Loki at this moment – especially if it was true that his mind had been controlled. He – they – would have to ask Thor exactly what family drama had been going on for Loki to meet – or be captured by – the person behind everything. He had a feeling that was it. Just a feeling – because of the way Thor called Loki his brother, and Loki constantly rebuked him for it. It was odd, to say the least. And he dimly recalled Thor telling them he was adopted… Perhaps Loki had found out his true parentage and got really, really mad. He'd have to ask, just to make sure. So, he looked over and found Thor not at his oven – where a surprisingly delicious looking and unburnt pancake was ready on a plate – but at Loki's over. He was eating the strange cake things Loki had made, in stormy silence. He walked over to him but he didn't look up until he started to speak. "Thor," he began, somewhat hesitantly. "What exactly happened in you… Family?" Thor raised his eyebrows and Bruce sighed. "How did he meet the person who probably controlled him?" Thor's resolve seemed to break and he pushed the plate away and turned his chair to properly face Bruce.

"I suppose it started when we were children. I was always… The favoured son, though I didn't notice my brother was often left behind when we all went on grand adventure and the like. I didn't think he minded. But he must have felt excluded." Thor sighed and rubbed his face. "On what was to be my coronation, he let into Asgard some frost giants, intending to disrupt the proceedings. It worked. We killed the frost giants but I was filled with rage and with my friends and Loki, set out to Jotunheim." Thor paused succinctly, as if deliberating what to say next. "I suspect that that is where Loki found out his true heritage as a Jotun." Bruce motioned for him to go on. "In our culture… Jotuns are monsters. Things we tell children of to make them behave." Bruce blinked. That must have been unpleasant. He could think of a great deal to say to Thor about it but elected instead to remain silent and let the god continue. "Odin banished me to earth after we nearly incited a war. Or, after _I_ nearly began a war. Then, when he fell into the Odinsleep, Loki took over ruling and sent the destroyer to kill me – coming quite close to succeeding, though at the last moment I persuaded him to leave the rest of Midgard and hurt only me. Upon return to Asgard… Loki let in more frost giants, intending to let them nearly slay Odin, but kill them just before they killed his father – gaining the respect of Odin in the process." Bruce raised his eyebrows at the strange way of thinking. "It turned out to be his father, the king of the frost giants, that he killed – a fact he was aware of and did not much mind. Remember, he too thought of frost giants as monsters." Thor sniffed. "Then, intending to… To destroy Jotunheim, he froze Heimdall and unleashed the power of the Bifrost upon it. We fought, and I destroyed the Bifrost to stop the chaos. As I did so, a massive blast of power was unleased, and we were thrown over the edge of the ruined bridge." Thor licked his dry lips before continuing in a sorrowful tone. "Odin awoke from his sleep and arrived in time to take hold of me. I held onto Odin's staff – which had been in Loki's possession – and Loki was holding onto the end of the staff. He told Odin… That he had tried to destroy Jotunheim for him. For all of us." Bruce leaned forwards slightly, tilting his head in encouragement. "Odin… Simply told him 'No, Loki.' And my brother let go of the staff to fall into the void. That is… That is where he must have been captured."

Bruce drew back. "Loki tried to kill himself?" He asked, horrified. Thor nodded mutely. Bruce thought about it. Loki had been pushed aside as a child, only to discover he was what he and the entirety of Asgard thought of as a monster. He'd lashed out at Thor, then tried twice to prove himself to his father – as anyone rejected as a child might have done. Failing that… He had let go. And then some horrible creature had found him and used his broken mind, twisted it to his own will, until Loki thought he hated Thor, hated Midgard even though he had once before let it live. And then he had been punished for something beyond his control, with… Those scars. And worse still, having to walk amongst Asgardians who now saw him as a monster… "I don't think he should be going back to Asgard," Bruce told him flatly, giving him a look that plainly warned Thor of exactly what would happen if he started arguing. Thor didn't argue, nodding mutely instead.

"I know," he rumbled quietly. "I will go by myself and ask Odin of what we may do instead. I do not believe my father was aware of his… Torture." Bruce nodded.

"Okay," he told Thor, still not entirely convinced, then left the thunder god to brood as he quietly went over to Tony and Cap – currently yelling obscene insults at each other, though much to Bruce's amusement, Cap was hunting furiously for polite metaphors. They paused in their fight as he approached. "I got news," he told them quietly, then began to recap everything Thor had told him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Behold, a chapter... 0.0**

**There's some Norse in this one, I included the translation for the important bit and then I'm leaving it up to you to find out what frosteistna are... Hehehe... Oh dear, I'm evil, aren't I? Making you do work? Awww... How terribly awful. Please enjoy the chapter, as I enjoy your reviews! ;)**

He was caught in a dim tangle of confusion as he awoke. Not just because of his injuries – which he could sense were substantial – but also because he appeared to be alive, and Fury's magnified voice was announcing that it was ten o'clock and a ceasefire… He didn't dare stir. He was sure he had heard this before he had… Fallen unconscious? The events began to come back to him and slowly, he realised he had been unconscious for nearly twelve hours. It was the next day. He made to move but his back screeched in protest before he could even try turn over. He took a few measured breaths and tried to make sense of his memories. _Thor's strong arm choking him, sending him deeper into the dark abyss, but as soon as Thor realised he quickly let go and grabbed Loki's arm in an almost supporting manner. Loki tried weakly to fight but his magic was taking everything and he had nothing left to give it. He stopped fighting, grasping his brother and drawing him into a small, terrified embrace, hoping perhaps that Thor would not despise him. He felt his brother's arm on his back and knew, then, that his brother did not hate him – before falling and falling and eventually becoming unaware of even the falling, and then waking here._ Yes, that was right. He remembered now. And he supposed Thor and all the others could now see him as he was. Of course, no illusion. He briefly considered drawing one around himself but decided against it. There was no point. They had already seen him, and… Bandaged him. Carefully and neatly. Curious, that they hadn't left him to die. Thor must have had some words with them – after all, they were still… Adoptive brothers, he supposed. No longer of the same family. But old habits die hard, he reasoned to himself, and gritted his teeth before twisting himself. A gasp of pain as the barely closed scars on his back tore open and began trickling blood again. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the floor in defeat. Gods, he couldn't even heal himself properly. The most his magic would be able to do at the present moment was hold together the wounds. He'd barely be able to heal a scratch with what he had left.

It was an effort to get a hand under himself and push, push himself up off the ground into a half-sitting position, and from there it wasn't too hard to twist himself so he was sitting with his back to the wall. Fury was at the moment sampling Black Widow's pancake pile – at the very end of the room – and kept glancing over at him in a hurried manner. Of course, he recalled dimly. There had been an order not to move about whilst the pancakes were being sampled. Loki didn't quite understand the Midgardian obsession with pancakes – he had yet to try one – and the thought that the Avengers were taking this so seriously… Amused him, slightly. Made him want, almost, to join in. Though, they would never let him. He pressed a hand weakly to his head and grimaced. What had he told them? Besides cuddling Thor as if he were some sort of lifeline… Barton. Loki cursed to himself. He'd told Barton his mind had been controlled – and it had. It was too late to take it back. And the deep unconsciousness he'd been in seemed to have only made him weaker – perhaps because there was no threat of torture to shock his body into healing faster, or perhaps he had simply reached his limit. It had been a few days since they had healed him, perhaps even a week. It had become a bit of a muddle. With some difficulty he dragged himself to the present and noted Fury making his way towards him alongside Stark. He didn't have the energy to stand up to meet them, he just gazed up and them wearily. "You all right?" asked Fury quietly. Loki shrugged and smirked lightly.

"Sure," he told them. "Never been better." His weak, dry voice said otherwise. Stark smiled slightly at him.

"Sounds all right to me," he muttered with a softly sarcastic undertone. Loki rolled his eyes, then pushed himself carefully off the floor, just about managing to stand, with great help from the wall. He grimaced at the pathetic state he was in, muttering "Sorry," apologetically as he nearly slipped down again, left leg giving way. "Reindeer games," Stark told him. "There's nothing for you to be sorry for. Just… Tell us what happened." Loki sighed. So, they wanted the full story. "How much has Thor told you?" he asked wearily. Stark raised an eyebrow. "About the family drama? Quite a bit." Fury nodded, agreeing with Stark. "We know about that. What happened after you fell?" Loki leaned back against the wall in a casual manner and examined his hand, the band of scar around the wrist. "A lot, actually," he told them, then as both Stark and Fury narrowed their eyes, "I want a chair. And I'm thirsty." He elected not to mention how long it had been since he'd had a drink, and thankfully Fury didn't ask as he called to Black Widow for a chair and a glass of water. Loki accepted both gratefully. He was fully intending to just sip the water, but ended up drinking most of it at once to the relief of his parched throat. "Sorry," he murmured again as he wiped his mouth lightly with the back of his hands, noting Fury and Stark staring at him. It felt rather like an interrogation, he suddenly thought to himself, and for a while as he looked at the two men staring impassively at him his mind went blank and his hand trembled just slightly. Fury must have picked up on this, moving away rather quickly as soon as Loki's face paled. "I'll leave you two to it," he told them respectfully, and Stark gaped at him for a moment, before sighing, "All right, reindeer games. Spill the beans."

His body may have been hurt again and again but his mind, fresh from sleep, was still able to tell a good story in only the way Loki the Silver-tongued could. It seemed to both him and Stark that when he began talking, the surrounding melted away and became whatever he was describing. And so, together they watched the scene unfold before them.

_Loki, falling and falling, greeting the Abyss with open arms. It pulled him in, thick folds of stars and darkness swirling around him, and then it began suffocating him, choking him, finding it's way into every crack and crevice until it was everywhere. Until he was the Abyss and the Abyss was him. Until his mind was tearing at the seams and he welcomed it, the pain and the anguish seeping through the cracks, claimed by the strange void. But something was there, drawing back the silver darkness, something that had found Loki near death with a mind so nearly broken. A sitting duck. It was a something that had no qualms about piecing his mind back together all wrong, pieces where they shouldn't be, memories skewed as it wished them to be. Whether it was Thanos or the Other who had found him first and done this, Loki did not know. But it was the Other who by torturing his body, drew his focus away from his mind, and so when it had been warped to the liking of the Other, he was given to Thanos. In Thanos, Loki saw a reprieve of the torture, of the suffering – though it had most likely taken place under his orders. He willingly accepted his mission, seeing not a world of innocents protected by his brother, but a world he hated with a man who had thrown him into the Abyss, darkness he had been forced to remember as cold and unwelcoming, as a death he had not wanted nor wished for, but been forced to accept and had nearly succumbed to. And so, he found the means and travelled to Midgard, from where they knew what had happened._

It had been a short retelling and he had glossed over everything that had happened under the watchful eyes of the Other – things hidden in his mind he did not wish to rediscover. Things he knew he would find out in his nightmares. Stark was asking him about what had happened there, but he ignored him, staring listlessly into the distance. He would not remember, he would not let himself remember. "Don't remember," he muttered to himself distractedly, no more than a breath of sound, and his hand twitched slightly where he held it on his knee. "Don't remember," again, and his eyes widened slightly as the room began to morph into another, hated room. His breath caught. "Don't remember," he whispered to himself and rocked back and forth just a fraction of an inch in a repetitive motion which he focused his entire mind on, ignoring the scene around him. For a moment, it seemed like it would pull him in, and he was terrified. But then arms around him, calming his rocking, and he leaned into Thor's familiar yet alien embrace. "Brother," he murmured, blinking as the room swam in front of him and he saw Stark's worried face, Loki's vision half blocked by Thor's mane of hair. He spat it out of his mouth. "Your hair is in my face," he grumbled to Thor, but he didn't push him away, echoes of fear still treading quietly through his veins. His brother didn't let go either, and Loki was content to stay that way for just a while, still rather shell-shocked and confused. "All right, Thor," he said eventually, and his brother withdrew to grip his upper arms and looked him seriously in the face. "Are you quite all right, Loki?" He asked. Loki shrugged.

"Allt vel. Fyrirgef mik," he told Thor. ((All well. I'm sorry.)) Thor sighed and helped him up, carefully. "Shush now, brother," he said almost tenderly, and Loki rolled his eyes but leaned on him heavily as they walked to Thor's oven. Loki noted that another bedroll had been tucked under a second table, with two chairs. Thor sat him down on one of these and Loki rubbed at his wrist before looking up at his brother. "You don't hate me?" he asked Thor. His brother blinked. "Ýmirs frosteistna! Loki, no! Of course not!" Loki grinned at Thor's apt exclamation. "Even though I too sometimes have… Frosteistna?" Thor stared at him incredulously then burst out laughing his loud, rumbling laugh that Loki hadn't realised he had missed. "Heavens Loki, no! Your heritage matter not to me. You are my brother, frosteistna or not!" Loki blinked, satisfied but for one thing. Before he could voice his question, Thor answered it – a rare occurrence. "I did not visit you because… Ah, brother, I was a coward. I did not wish to see you look at me and remember only the bad times… Of which I suppose there were more than I realised. I am sorry, brother." Loki nodded slowly, smile disappearing although his expression remained contented. "It is well now, Thor." The room wavered slightly, and his scars yelled at him, but he forced the pain back and stood up. "Shall I teach you yet again how to cook?" He asked smoothly, smiling at Thor. Thor grinned and nodded, happy to see his brother again. Just Loki, no pretences. "We have three hours," he rumbled quietly, "Before the contest begins again." Loki cocked his head. "Let us make the batter now," he murmured to Thor in a low voice, noticing Stark hovering nearby, "Then I shall cook, and you shall ward off intruders." Thor nodded happily. "I can do that," he chuckled, "Though I must say, Brother, my last few pancakes were delectable!" Loki raised an eyebrow but inclined his head. "True," he said, "Only, all of my pancakes would be better should I make them." Thor opened his mouth to argue but closed it quickly after no retorts came to mind.

"Hatching evil schemes so soon?" Stark asked, poking his head into what Loki defined as their territory. He narrowed his eyes at Stark. "I fully intend to come second in this contest," he told Stark primly. Stark blinked. "Aren't you going for first?" he asked. Loki snorted. "I'm not beating _that_," he said, pointing grimly to where Captain America was carefully whisking every single small lump out of his batter – looking over at them with no small amount of curiosity. "I can hear you," he yelled over to them. Stark flipped him a gesture that made him quickly look back into his batter and pay sudden attention to it. "And what about me and Brucey?" Stark asked somewhat petulantly. Loki shrugged. "Sort it out with the Black Widow and Barton. I'm sure you'll work something out." Stark blanched and Loki grinned, remembering how he had watched their terrible defeat earlier. "You seem to have recovered your spirits," Stark grumbled as a last resort before turning away. Loki sighed as he left, and though he hadn't intended for Stark to hear it, it was just loud enough that the mortal man had. Behind Stark's back, Thor waved him goodbye – Black Widow, from the other side of the room, sniggered at Stark's dejected face. Thor turned to Loki, who was already assembling various ingredients on the table nearest to the oven. "Brother," Thor asked carefully. "You do not need to make yourself seem happy if you are not," he continued into Loki's silence. Loki sighed again and shrugged. "Trust me – for once – my brother, I am glad to have you back. I have some…" He gestured to himself and his back, "Minor inconveniences. But my heart is glad we may once more be brothers, and…" He took a moment to think, before continuing, "I might be pushing certain things back – yes, pain amongst them – but do not doubt my gladness is real." Thor slowly poured the flour into a sieve over the bowl and began shaking it gently. Loki, watching the movements, saw his brother wasn't angry – else, he'd be shaking the sieve rather like a concentrated earthquake. "Should you wish to rest, or want for anything, do not hesitate to tell me so," Thor told him eventually. "I would not have you feel discomfort for my sake." Loki smiled faintly. "A glass of water would be nice – but aside from that, for now I only wish for that batter to be smoother than Njord's toes." Thor bowed in the Asgardian and began mixing the batter as if it had done their family a personal injustice. Loki frowned at it too, for good measure.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry for the wait, I've been busy and also started writing another story... *nervous laughter***

**I love y'all reviews, thankee for them very much! Enjoy El Chapter!**

The contest had begun again. They'd only had half an hours reprieve after mixing their batter, and Loki had decided to spend it in comfortable silence, not wishing to talk. His back was throbbing, yes, but for now he truly did feel better than he had in a long, long while. He'd rebuked Thor's few attempts at conversation gently, reminding him he had to conserve his strength. After his long span of unconsciousness… He could spare a bit of magic for a few illusions. Over the years, he had practised illusions so many times that they had become natural to his magic, and the effort required was very little. Especially compared to healing himself, something he hadn't done very often. So, he sat, and rested, for the few minutes before finally, finally, Fury announced the contest was beginning again and once more, the room erupted into chaos. Loki knew he had to preserve his energy carefully – so springing up, he started with no illusion except a few lumps in the batter (which really was smoother than Njord's toes). Thor was standing to the side, looking threateningly at anyone who dared to approach. Loki sent up an illusion of a hiss and a cloud of black smoke as he poured the mixture carefully in the pan, and he noted Black Widow quickly averting her eyes. Good. Iron Man was still watching – Black Widow and Barton were now looking over at Captain America, hatching some sort of plan. Banner was furiously mixing his batter, and eventually called on Iron Man to help him. Loki watched Stark turn away, then drew up and illusion and executed a perfect pancake flip. It already smelled wonderful. He steeled himself, then drew up a small illusion bubble around himself and Thor. With some effort, he created the illusion of what the other avengers would expect to see – a burning pancake and two quarrelling gods. Within their bubble, Thor and Loki could speak without being over heard.

Immediately, Thor moved over to his side. "What must I do?" He asked in his deep tones, and Loki took a few seconds to recover himself from the sudden pull on his magic. "I… Yes," he muttered, remembering what they had to do. "Remember mother's jam?" Thor's eyes widened and he gasped. "Of course I do! I remember demanding lessons on making it, before Odin found out and told me only girls could cook…" Loki snorted. "Yes, he told me only girls should be healers, and look what good that's done." Thor rolled his eyes, and Loki continued talking. "But you remember how to make it?" Thor frowned. "I… Of course! Yes!" Thor's eyes lit up as he remembered the recipe and began searching through his cupboard – probably managing to find everything on the ingredients list, judging by his happy grunting. "I'll take care of the pancakes," Loki told him, already pouring a second scoop of batter into the pan. It hissed slightly. Loki frowned and lowered the temperature whilst using his other hand to spread the batter evenly around. He had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he would be terrified of fire for the rest of his miserable life – not so good when his brother was the god of lightning. But the memories of brands on his back never did quite die down. He distracted himself with a pancake flip, then moved aside as Thor plunked a pan next to him on the hob. In the illusion, Thor and Loki glared at each other before both reaching for the batter and almost knocking it over, slapping each other away as they fought to be the first. Watching them, Iron Man raised an eyebrow then turned away. Inside the bubble, they shared easily, and Loki found within himself an odd submissiveness – the strange cruelty and hate Thanos and the Other had imposed on him slowly washing away. But… There wasn't much Loki left. They'd whipped away so much of him… Loki didn't realise his hand was shaking, the pancake near forgotten, until Thor gently removed the pan from his hand and carefully slid it onto the plate. He didn't say a word.

"You've learned tact, brother," Loki eventually breathed, somewhat shakily. Thor smiled tightly and shrugged. "Perhaps," he said, and Loki sighed. Thor seemed to wish to continue his silence, but stared at Loki in such a way as to make him feel he had to tell Thor something. "It's too much," he said finally, gesturing tiredly at his head, at his broken mind. "It's too much." Thor crossed over to him and enveloped him in a brotherly embrace, patting his back in a way which said, 'I know, my brother. I know. I am here.' Loki shuddered and blinked furiously. "Come on, Thor. We must finish the jam and the pancakes." Thor let him go somewhat reluctantly, and began mixing together the ingredients. After that, time seemed to blur for Loki. His back became a red throbbing line in his vision, and though his hands carried out practiced, measured movements, he scarcely knew what he was doing and relied more on muscle memory than anything conscious. Perhaps an hour had elapsed since they had begun again by the time he had a nice pile of pancakes. Thor was stirring the jam – it was almost ready. He added a generous sprinkle of sugar and stirred. Loki raised an eyebrow slightly. "You have hidden skills, brother," he told Thor, sniffing the aroma of fresh fruits and sweet jam. Thor beamed. "I may not be able to cook these flat Midgardian pancakes, but I think you will find I make an excellent Asgardian jam!" Loki inclined his head, agreeing with Thor, and struggling not to smile. His back gave a painful throb and he winced.

"When will we be done, Loki?" Thor asked, concern visible on his face, and clearly wishing to tell Loki to rest. He fought off – with some difficulty – the urge to hide himself from Thor and proclaim himself fine. He would be honest with his brother in these matters, he decided quietly. He did not want to lose Thor again – it had been bad enough believing that Thor hated him for attacking Midgard. Worse knowing that he could never explain why… Though now he'd told him, and his brother didn't hate him. Perhaps he never had. He shook himself from his thoughts and told Thor, "The jam must be hot and the pancakes cold. In perhaps ten minutes we can prepare the plate – and then I presume we can call Fury to try them?" Thor nodded. "Very well. And after that, I believe we will have perhaps five hours to disrupt the pancake making of the others." Loki grinned. "Indeed, brother. Our disguise is holding up well – the others suspect nothing." Thor smirked. "Now I see why it takes so long – if we had not the illusion, we would barely have made the batter!" Loki nodded. "Indeed. Now keep stirring, Thor, so we don't need to make the jam a second time." Thor looked at the pan in alarm and began stirring it. Loki rolled his eyes, then headed to the table and sat down, half-closing his eyes. He concentrated on his illusion – then to his alarm noted Iron Man approaching them. Thor noticed too, but kept on stirring. Loki got up hurriedly and let the illusion of himself wash over him, approaching Stark. "Hello, Stark," he said politely, stepping outside the bubble so as to prevent Stark entering. "Hi," smirked Stark. "Not going so well, is it?" Loki pursed his lips and shrugged. "What can you expect, working with that oaf?" he retorted, jerking a thumb back at Thor. Then, somewhat suspiciously, "Why are you here?"

Stark snorted. "Not to steal your batter, if that's what you're wondering. It looks like cat sick." Loki looked around at it. From here, it looked lumpy and slightly discoloured. He wrinkled his nose. "I suppose second place will go to Black Widow, after all," he sighed. Stark smirked, and Loki couldn't help a quick, catlike grin in response, seemingly slightly abashed at the state of their batter. The illusionary Thor cursed loudly as the pancake stuck to the pan yet again, then looked up and glared at Stark. Stark lifted his hands into the air and chuckled. "Good luck, reindeer games," he snorted, and left. Loki gazed curiously after him then returned into the bubble. "What was that about?" Thor asked in a low voice. Loki shrugged. "Who knows," he said drily, sitting back down and fully closing his eyes, concentrating on the illusion. He could get perhaps another hour, two, out of his illusion, possibly even three if he was careful. It was enough time – the Avengers saw what they wanted to see, and they would look no further than that. Except perhaps Stark and Barton – though the latter, he suspected, didn't particularly want to come anywhere near him, and would likely stay silent about the illusion. Stark was just… Odd. A genius, no doubt, but rather eccentric. Loki meditated on it for a while, then his mind moved to the pain in his back, beginning to suffocate him. He felt a curious heat from it, and began to suspect one or more of the wounds were infected. If he was right, he would have a fever within hours. Loki hoped he wasn't right, but he didn't dare remove the illusion so as to ease the swelling a little. He growled silently to himself. The moment he stopped using his magic to hold his wounds together, they became infected. Curse Odin for never letting him become a healer – at least Frigga had insisted he know how to heal basic wounds.

"Loki?" he heard Thor say after a while. He opened his eyes with difficulty, keeping a tight hold on the illusion, and gave a small 'Hm?' Thor helped him stand up, and Loki realised he'd misjudged – yet again – how weak he was. The world seemed to spin around him for a few seconds, before he recovered himself. "I gave the jam half an hour, I think it is about right now," Thor told him carefully. Loki limped over to the oven and prodded the jam – which smelled perfectly. "You are limping," Thor pointed out, sounding vaguely surprised. Loki shrugged. "You weren't before," Thor told him, almost suspiciously. Loki felt himself redden slightly. He'd been hiding the limp, and had quite forgotten to do so. "Um," he muttered uncomfortably. Thor sighed deeply.

"You were hiding it," he stated flatly. Loki reddened even more, and smiled sheepishly. Thor gave him a deadpan glare, and he turned quickly to the jam and took it off the heat. Thor came up behind him and grabbed the pan. "Where do you want it?" he asked in a frosty tone, though not without a touch of concern. Loki crossed to the pancakes, hiding the limp properly this time, and Thor almost yelled at him, "By Odin's eistna, Loki! Stop it!" Loki guiltily scurried over to the pancakes, fighting the strong urge to hide the limp, and spread the pancakes out. "A dollop in the centre of each," he muttered quietly, and watched Thor spoon the jam carefully in. As soon as he had finished, and set the pan to the side, Loki began wrapping the pancakes up. "Cream, blueberries, strawberries, that maple syrup thing," he instructed Thor, and his brother obediently went over to the cupboard and brought back the items. "Put the blueberries – carefully – into quarters. Put them in that bowl," Loki told him, pointing to a small bowl on the side. Thor nodded and took a knife.

He folded the pancakes into small packets, and sprayed the whipped cream in a semi-circle around the back of each small packet, covering half of the top and leaving the rest peeking out. He took the strawberries, and upon realising they were unwashed, straightened up. Almost immediately, the dizziness returned and he held grimly onto the counter until the world stopped spinning. Thor, he saw, was furiously cutting the blueberries. He put the strawberries in a sieve and carefully crossed over to the sink, washing them deftly, and plunked them next to Thor just as he finished cutting the blueberries. He waited until his brother scooped up the quarters and dunked them into a bowl, then picked up the bowl and near slammed it on the table. Loki winced. "Strawberries in halves," he told Thor quickly, and remembered not to hide his limp as he walked back to the table. Gods, his back. He was getting more and more sure of an infection, something which dismayed him greatly, but the carried on, carefully arranging the blueberries in the cream and putting one or two strawberry halves on the top of each packet as Thor cut them. He drizzled half of the packets with the Midgardian syrup, and then said quietly, "Done," before near collapsing into a chair. "I'll pull the illusion so it's just around the table, pancakes, and the worktop. You can call Fury." Thor gave him a _look_ and Loki looked down, brow furrowed, folding his hands neatly into his lap as he pulled back the illusion. He sighed deeply as the pull on his magic lessened, and Thor waved up at the railings around the room.

An agent, noticing them, called Fury over and the director peeked over the edge. "Thor?" he called out, and his brother gestured to what was apparently a slightly – slightly – charred pile of pancakes on their plate, with a dollop of cream and some rather disgusting looking strawberries. "You may as well judge it now," Loki called up, managing to sound disgusted by his own work. "It can't get much worse." Thor glared at him and Fury, sighing, descended the metal stairs. Loki looked up and saw Black Widow sniggering at the look on Fury's face, and at their pancakes. Barton, behind her, looked curiously at their table, as if trying to pierce the illusion.

"Well, let's see," sighed Fury, approaching with a look of utter distaste. Just as he reached the table, Loki smirked and Fury looked up, eyes widening as he realised what had probably happened, and Loki drew back the illusion. Black Widow's laughter stopped, and Barton chuckled. "Knew it," Loki heard Stark hiss, and over on the other side of the room, Captain raised an eyebrow. Their pancakes, each beautifully made and perfectly cooked and decorated, looked delectable. "Ta-da," Loki said triumphantly. Fury took in a deep breath. "Well," he said slowly. "I'm impressed." Thor grinned, though it looked slightly forced. "Try them," he told Fury. Fury did, and made a soft exclamation as the sweet jam spilled out of the middle. Loki turned his gaze to Thor, watching his brother grin as Fury sampled the jam and found it to his liking. Loki didn't give any sign that the beginning of a headache was forming, and it was promising to turn into a nice big killer of a headache. He did shiver quite suddenly, and then decided that he was in fact beginning a fever, and judging by the seemingly never-ending throbbing, the wounds were infected.

Fury ate three of the little packets, gazing somewhat mournfully at the rest of the pancakes as he told Thor they could eat the rest. Then, "That was a nice trick, with the illusion. I suppose that's how you finished so quickly?" Thor nodded in response. "Loki/" Fury asked him, and he looked up. "Yes, Director?" Fury scowled at him slightly, in much the manner he scowled at all his agents. "Does holding an illusion take effort?" Loki blinked. Apparently Thor had not instructed Fury about how magic worked. Loki opened his mouth to say 'no', and began to shake his head, before seeing Thor's expression and nodding. "Of course, it is not without a price. It drains my energy and physical labour might, though when I am at full strength it is much less… Strenuous." Fury frowned. "I don't think…" Then he shook his head and sighed. "Never mind. You look ill." Loki blinked and just stopped himself from throwing up an illusion to mask himself. He looked briefly at Thor, standing with his arms crossed. "I… Hm. I believe that…" He glanced nervously at Thor, then said in a low voice, "I believe one of more of may wounds may have been… Um… Infected." He glanced guiltily at the floor. "What," Thor stated flatly, glaring daggers at Loki. He felt his face grow hot as his brother glared at him, and he shrugged uncomfortably. "Just a… Suspicion," he said. "And how long have you had this suspicion for?" Fury asked. Loki thought. "About an hour?" he asked. "And you didn't think it was important?" Fury asked incredulously. "Sorry," was all Loki could think of.

Fury sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. "All right. Thor, take him to the bathroom and get the bandages off. I'll get Stark and Banner to take a look, and warn the others to leave their stuff alone." Thor nodded grimly, and all but dragged Loki to the bathroom, probably not quite realising how near to unconsciousness the latter was. Thor didn't say a word as he pushed Loki into the small room and sat him down, taking his shirt off roughly and practically tearing the bandages away. "Thor!" Loki gasped, his world exploding into stars, as the bandages tore away the scabs and blood began flowing again. He clutched wildly at his brother as tears began streaming down his face at the sudden pain. His brother gave a strange gulp that could be seen as a sob and left quickly. Loki heard the door to the second bathroom slam. He tried to breathe steadily but ended up gasping for air as blood began flowing around him, and quickly after that he heard Banner come in, though a film of black began to cloud his vision as Banner carefully pulled him away from the wall, and though he didn't remember the exact moment he collapsed, he must have done so, because he remembered nothing more after that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Voila! Have two chapters today ;)**

Tony had to use the small shower to wet the bandages that they might be pulled away from Loki's skin. Fury had gone into the other bathroom after Thor, and was presumably talking to him. Tony was stuck with Bruce and a half-dead god. Perfect. Tony winced as Bruce pulled the last of the bandages gently off and took up a wipe, gently running it down Loki's back and managing to clear away a small patch of blood before he needed to get another wipe. Tony was holding the god in a sitting position, an arm braced across the front of Loki's chest, and trying not to gag at the sight of the scars as they came into view. It was even more apparent what had happened once Bruce finished wiping most of the blood away. In their hurry the night before, they hadn't done much more than bandage the wounds and hope for the best. It was clearly more serious than they had believed. Because the scars on his back, Tony saw, spelled something out. The big, red, and infected-seeming scars. Bruce ran his hand lightly over them. "Filthy Jotun," he read in a low voice. "Bruce, don't you dare hulk out now," Tony muttered tightly, shaking with just as much rage as his friend. Bruce gave a shuddering laugh. "No, I'll save that for the people who did this," he muttered with a horrified half-smile. "Good man," Tony told him, then stared quietly at the scars. A few moments elapsed, then, "Should we tell Thor?" Bruce cocked his head. "Judging by how well he took the news of the infection, no. Tell Fury and let Fury tell Thor." Tony nodded. "Did Fury tell you what Loki told me?" Bruce frowned and shook his head.

"After Loki tried to kill himself, he very nearly succeeded and was almost dead when this guy found him. They started torturing him, distracting him from what they were doing to his head. They changed his memories and thoughts, and then he was given to this dude called Thanos. Obviously, at the time he didn't realise Thanos was the boss of the guy who had tortured him, and had probably ordered the torture, so he was happy enough to work for him, thinking that he hated Midgard and Thor… And then in Asgard, he began to realise what he had done." Tony looked down at the limp god he was holding. "Gods, Bruce… Can you imagine what he must think of himself? He believes himself a monster, and he probably thinks New York proves that, even though… He really didn't have any control over that, did he?" Bruce rubbed his face in his hands.

"I'll get Fury," he murmured eventually, and gave Loki a sorrowful glance before leaving. Tony shifted slightly so as to better hold Loki up, and looked him up and down. He looked on the brink of – if not past – starvation. No wonder he had been so keen to have a drink – he wondered dully if they had even fed him at all on Asgard, or given him anything to drink. And the scaring went across his chest, too, deep jagged marks that made him want to cry for Loki's sake. He didn't, but just about. When Fury arrived – without Bruce – Tony watched his hand clench into a fist as he caught sight of the words carved into Loki's flesh. "Filthy Jotun," he read quietly, and his brow furrowed so much that his eyebrows were nearly fused. Tony looked helplessly down. "What do we do?" He asked, voice so low it was nearly a whisper. Fury's nostrils flared. "We go up to Asgard and beat the –" He blinked and stopped himself. "Loki will be staying here," he announced much more quietly. "I could give him and Thor rooms in the tower," Tony suggested, and Fury nodded. "That would be fine. Thor had better let me up to Asgard with him." At that moment, Loki's hand twitched and Tony looked at him, worried, as the god slowly lifted his head and peered out of his hair. "I'm sorry," he murmured faintly and in a deeply confused tone. Tony had a feeling the poor god had no idea what was going on. He didn't move his arm from where it supported Loki, even when the god lifted a hand to sweep his wet hair away from his eyes. He seemed surprised to be sitting on the floor of a shower, but didn't say anything until, a few minutes later, he wearily asked, "Thor?" Fury knelt down in front of him. "Thor's… Really worried about you." Loki processed this information without much more than a downwards twitch of his brow, then started laughing softly and weakly. Fury raised his eyebrows.

"I… I recall saying…" Loki paused, blinked, and seemed to shake himself from a desire to fall asleep. "I recall saying… That you would… kneel eventually… I doubt… I doubt this is how I had… Envisioned it…" And he chuckled quietly to himself, before leaning his head against the wall. Tony smirked slightly. "I suppose not," he murmured in agreement, putting his other hand gently on Loki's shoulder as the god seemed to be attempting to rise. "Stay down, reindeer games," he cautioned the god, then deciding now was as good a time as any, "Those scars on your back. Who put them there?" Fury made a hissing noise as if trying to put the words back into Tony's mouth. Loki didn't seem to care, and as the god shivered quite suddenly, Tony had the feeling Loki was beginning to be slightly delirious. "Um…" Loki responded, and seemed to take a long while to think. "Asgard… The guards…" He opened his eyes wider and Tony saw they were fever-bright. Loki grasped his arm. "Heimdall saw," he said quickly, "I told him to say nothing, but he saw and…" Loki seemed to lose his train of thought and quieted.

"Who's going to be on nurse duty?" asked Tony drily as Loki continued to stare listlessly into the distance, resting his head on the cool shower wall. "We'll probably take him up unto the landing," Fury returned. "That way, Thor won't be hovering over him like a mother hen." Loki huffed a small laugh at that, but it seemed to pain him. "Is it just the back?" Tony asked Loki. "Left leg," Fury replied instead of the god, and Loki nodded absentmindedly. "That's the one," he murmured, then shivered again. Fury pursed his lips and looked over Loki's back. Most of the wound on the upper part of his back were closed, or at least had stopped bleeding. The infected words looked nasty, but they were only just beginning to swell, so Tony hoped they'd be able to get it down before it became really serious. The lower part of his back was a little more of a mess, and blood was swirling into the plug hole as they watched. Fury took out a small medical kit and said, "Wash it, disinfect it, put some of that cream on it. For both the words and the lower back. We won't bother with bandages again. I'll do the leg." Tony raised his eyebrows at the list of instructions but didn't argue. He carefully moved his arm and Loki somehow managed to hold himself upright. "You good?" Tony asked carefully, and though Loki's lips tightened he nodded. "Right," Tony breathed to himself, and began carefully wiping disinfectant over the wounds.

Loki's breathing quickly turned erratic, and Tony realised it must sting like hell. "Steady," he murmured, and Loki gasped softly but somehow managed to stay conscious. Fury was carefully cutting away the trousers at the knee, and Tony looked away as a mangled mess was revealed. Fury cursed to himself. When Tony got to the lower back, he had scarcely wiped the disinfectant over it once before Loki suddenly swayed backwards, and Tony steadied him with a hand. Amazingly, the god seemed to be hanging onto consciousness with every last shred of his being, his eyes tightly closed, and teeth gritted. Tony tried to be as quick as possible, then hurriedly applied the cream. It seemed to give some immediate relief to Loki, because he relaxed somewhat, though he returned to his former strained position as Fury began to use the disinfectant on Loki's knee, which appeared to have been broken or pierced by something. It was a mess, and Tony quickly averted his gaze, and braced an arm on the wall just behind Loki, forming a sort of head rest for the god.

Tony managed not to look at the leg until Fury had bandaged it – he grimly told Tony that the damage was deep, and that Loki might always have a limp, and that they'd have to change the bandage pretty often. Loki was conscious by the end of it, but he had gone quiet and seemed to be unaware of anything around him, just looking blankly at the wall. Other than that, Fury worked in silence. As he stood up, his knees clicked, and Fury groaned. "Get him up, Stark, we need to get him to the landing." Tony stood, one hand reaching down to support Loki, then gently pulled him up. The god seemed to shake himself from some sort of reverie, and though he looked utterly confused, he allowed Tony to take one of his arms and wrap it around his shoulders. Tony could tell as soon as he stepped forwards that Loki was relying entirely upon him for balance, and it surprised him that the god felt so… Light. Though looking at his ragged frame, Tony wasn't altogether shocked.

Fury led the way out and Tony followed carefully. The first thing he noticed was that both Thor and Bruce were absent – most likely keeping each other company, he reasoned. But Nat, Clint, and Steve were standing together by the door, and all of their eyes widened as they beheld Loki. Steve muttered something which sounded suspiciously like a swear word, but Tony didn't particularly feel like pointing it out. The room was pretty much silent as everyone took in the words on Loki's back. _Filthy Jotun. _Loki seemed to be barely able to walk, and Tony realised that although the fever seemed bad and he must have been at least a little delirious, he must be feeling incredible uncomfortable being seen by other people. He was staring at the floor, breathing shallow, and he was slowly getting tenser and tenser as the silence continued. Tony was worried he might simply collapse just from the tension he must be feeling, but then there was a loud sizzle and a pan erupted into flame. Loki's head snapped up and the fire – in Clint's pan – reflected dully in his eyes. He half-pushed Tony away with surprising strength and crossed the remainder of the room without looking at anyone or anything, with a brisk walk and only a slight limp, although Tony could see his mouth was set in a grim line as he hurried after him. Tony caught up with him at the base of the stairs and Loki leaned on him slightly as they went up them, one step after another, and when they reached the top, Loki muttered, "I hate fire," and quite promptly collapsed.

Tony caught him just before he hit his head on the railing, and Fury gently pulled him away, laying him on a bed roll that the other agents had prepared a while ago. "Leave him to rest," Fury murmured, then, "I'll give you and Bruce extra time at the break. You can tell him and Thor they can re-join the contest." Fury gave a brief pause, waiting for Tony's nod of acknowledgment, before turning to a nearby agent. "Agent," he addressed her simply, "I need the bathroom cleaned. It's just a little blood, but we don't want Thor having a fit over it." The agent nodded and descended the stairs just after Tony. "He's a mess, isn't he?" The agent murmured to him, and Tony nodded, looking back up the stairs to where he couldn't see where Loki lay. He crossed over to the bathroom with the agent, saying nothing more, and knocked on the door behind which Thor and Bruce were. Bruce opened it, revealing Thor sitting on the floor with a stony face. Bruce left the room and closed the door quietly behind him.

"I think it would be best to leave Thor alone for the time being," Bruce told him delicately, then asked, "How is he?" As they walked over to their station together, Tony explained what had happened as briefly as possible, then said, "Brucey, we need to make some pancakes. Fury said he'd give us extra time, 'cause we were both helping out reindeer games." Bruce nodded, seemingly satisfied, then perked up slightly. Tony grinned at him. "Clint burned a pancake. And now the bottom of his pan will be lumpy." Bruce smiled back. "We might just have a chance," he said brightly, and they began to make more batter with renewed vigour.


	8. Chapter 8

***Throws a chapter* Keep 'em reviews comin'! I love you all ;) **

When Loki asked, quietly, Fury told him it had taken nearly twelve hours to get the fever down, and he was lucky it had only been at the very beginnings of an infection. Loki had blushed lightly under Fury's disapproving stare, then asked if he might see his brother. Fury said no – which greatly surprised Loki, and he had been rather stunned for a while, before Fury gently drew him to the railing and Loki peeked over. The food fight was in full flow. Loki watched with no small amount of awe as Black Widow swung around the room with a dancer's grace and ease, avoiding the flying food, and throwing it with unnerving accuracy. Banner was hiding behind Stark, who was trying valiantly to protect him, but more often than not relying on the upturned oven in front of them. Captain was grinning wildly, attacking Stark with gusto. Thor was in a whirlwind of food, sending it randomly flying everywhere and managing to hit everybody except Black Widow – who as far as he could tell, was only being hit by Barton if she got too far away to wrestle him.

Loki watched the pandemonium with a smile, chuckling under his breath whenever someone yelled a particularly nasty or witty insult. His mischief-making smile began to creep up onto his face as he thought about exactly how he might win against these people, how he might taunt them until they grew clumsy and unfocused... He returned to himself quite quickly, reminding himself that these people would not – could not – accept him, and he would most likely rot in the dungeons of Asgard for ever. A shudder ran through him at the thought. He felt Fury place a light hand on his back and stilled, a hot flush of shame running through him as he realised his scars were on display for all to see. He tried to hide his discomfort, and turned with a raised eyebrow to Fury. The mortal man looked at him carefully. "You sure you don't want to rest longer? Your injuries ain't subtle." Loki gave a confused smile. "I do not see why you should care," he replied, and the mortal looked back incredulously. "Loki. You got mind controlled, and then punished for it. You were _tortured._ Is that not enough reason?" Loki considered it, then shook his head. "I was never destined to be a good person," he told the director, then gestured grimly to the words on his back. "Or did you not notice that I was born a monster?"

"You could be born a teaspoon for all I care," Fury retorted. "Ain't no bad in anyone until someone puts it there. Sort yourself out." Fury gave him a spectacular glare before turning and walking away from the railing. Loki sighed and sat down on his bed roll, shaking his head slightly. It couldn't be right. He was a Jotun, a monster, was he not? He had it carved on his back. But then again… Loki rolled his head to the side and looked thoughtfully at Fury's back. A small child couldn't think for themselves. And he was certain he had not been a bad person until… Until he fell. But still, he should have fought harder. Could have fought harder. Could have told Thanos _no. _Perhaps it was not even that he was a Jotun. He was simply a weak fool. He almost got up again, but pushing himself off the wall he realised that though he had been asleep for the better part of the past day and a half, he would still need to rest if he wanted the pain to abate. He kept mis-judging quite how injured he was. So, for once, he slumped back down, and eventually lay down and let his thought drift back to Thanos and the Other. It had taken him a long time to remember what had happened – and with the torture in Asgard, he had mostly been in too much pain to think about it. But now, now was just a little time he could spare to think and try and remember exactly what had happened.

_He could only just remember the exhilarating rush of falling through the void, stars and galaxies swirling past… And just as his mind fractured and began to break, he landed, hard, on a stone platform, and he dimly realised that somehow, someone or something had pulled him out of the void. At that moment, he hated whoever had done so. He couldn't get up, could barely move, just lay there gasping, convulsing slightly as his body tried to adjust to the shock and the painful impact. "Dear me," he heard someone murmur from above him, in a tone of mild amusement. No concern whatsoever. A strange thrill of fear sparked through him as he realised that they did not intend to heal him. If they had, he might have convinced them to let him back into the endless void. This person – thing – mean to kill him, or harm him. He suspected the latter. But after all – he had failed Odin, failed Thor, he was a Jotun, and nobody could ever care for what happened to him. Not even himself. Slowly, his shuddering eased, but he didn't stand, just rolled his head quietly to the side. What was a Jotun? He thought dimly to himself. What was Odin? Something had happened to his mind in the Void. Everything was back to front, inside out, one minute crystal clear and the next he was struggling not to drown in a fog of disjointed thoughts. "Interesting…" He heard the voice hiss, then something was inside his mind, long cold fingers, probing and pushing and pulling… He hissed and with all the might he could muster, propelled the thing out. He opened his eyes to a strange, alien face staring at him. "Interesting," it repeated. "This one could be of use." He clapped his hands once and stood. As if from a great distance, Loki felt himself lifted, and was vaguely aware of being thrown into a cell of sorts, and he groaned as he hit the floor and rolled to a stop, but beyond that he couldn't do much more._

_After that… nothing much was clear. He could barely think at all, and over time the flashes of clearness, the times when he was able to fight the chains or the probing fingers in his mind, began to come less often, and then stopped. He was living a reality shaped by pain, one beating after another, whips and poisons and brands on his back. It took a long time, but eventually… He did not know himself any longer. He felt that he had been wrong, that his own brother out of hatred had pushed him from the Bifrost. His broken mind did not attempt to fathom why, it simply accepted the lies as truths. And within him, a burning hatred for his brother and that small, puny world he so loved… Midgard._

_The Other took him to the Titan, bound in chains and thrust kneeling on the floor in front of him. "Take the chains off," commanded the Titan king, and the words were a cool balm on his wounds. He stood to face Thanos. "Tell me… Loki," the titan asked slowly. "What do you hate most in this world?" Loki thought as much as he was able. "My brother," he said finally, "And that pet world of his." Thanos smiled grimly. "Clean his wounds. Make him presentable. Then bring him to me."_

_And when he finally understood that if he followed the Titan there would be no more pain, no more fog in his mind, he accepted the Titan's offer without hesitation. He would prove himself a true king, an equal to his brother… And more. _

He didn't open his eyes when he resurfaced from his memories, finally knowing what had happened. It didn't leave him any less broken than before. He thought carefully. At least the guards in Asgard had not tortured his mind – though he had been wide awake for every drip of his blood falling to the floor, every knife drawn down his back, every cruel letter carved into his back. But better knowing what was happening to him than… Than what the Other had done to him. Flashes of the torture itself he remembered – but he skimmed over those memories. They made him feel ill, a sickness deep in his stomach, whenever he glimpsed them. He didn't want to dwell on those.

He pushed himself from his reverie and finally opened his eyes, squinting slightly against the harsh light. Fury was immediately beside him, grasping his shoulder and helping him into a sitting position. Loki gripped his arm. "I… I remember," he told him in a somewhat weak, breathless voice, and he realised as he looked down at his hand that it was shaking. He frowned. Fury looked at him carefully. "I don't think that classes as resting," he said carefully, and Loki shrugged. "I may never get the chance to remember it again. Most of the time in Asgard I am either sleeping or… Otherwise occupied." He said it with a slight grimace. Fury frowned quite suddenly. "You're not going back to Asgard," he told Loki quite suddenly. "How?" asked Loki with only a passive interest. Odin would never let a Jotun escape the dungeons. Fury grinned back fiercely. "Because when Thor goes up to Asgard, I'll be going up with him." Loki raised his eyebrows and sat up a little straighter. "Now that," he murmured, "Might do something." Then he gave a soft chuckle. "And what of me? Am I to spend the rest of my days in your mortal dungeons?"

"No," Fury stated flatly, and Loki gazed dully at him. "You'll be staying with Stark, I presume, in Avengers tower." Loki raised an eyebrow. "As…" He was about to say, As a prisoner? But he didn't quite get that far before Fury butted in. "As a guest," he said firmly. Then a slight quirk of the lips. "You need to stop assuming the worst." Loki smiled back slightly, wearily. "When have I not received the worst?" he said quietly. "At least I won't be disappointed." Fury laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and stood up.

Loki sat quietly, staring up at the ceiling, until Stark came into his field of vision. "Hello, Reindeer Games," was the greeting. "You look awful." Loki mustered a smile. "You," he replied, "Look like you cannot wash yourself properly." And indeed, Tony's face was scrubbed clean, as were his hands, but his clothes and hair were spattered with… A mix of things. He was grinning widely, then offered Loki a hand up. "Fury's gonna announce the winners, then you'll be coming with me." Loki blinked, and remembered what Fury had told him about staying in Avengers tower. He didn't say anything to Stark, but mutely accepted his hand and stood up, not without difficulty. Stark stared at him. "You seem to be getting worse every time I see you," he commented drily, and Loki shrugged.

"I always try to appear a little better than I am. Unfortunately, I keep misjudging that and expending energy where I should not – as you might deign to notice, I currently have no illusions, and nor can I seem to summon up the will to hide how my injuries affect me." Stark shrugged in reply, though his warm eyes seemed concerned. "Fair enough," he said simply, then led Loki carefully down the stairs to where Thor waited.

Loki smiled somewhat apologetically at his brother, near begging him not to be angry. He was not. Thor's smiled faded into a grave expression, but not one with anger. He stepped forwards and carefully embraced Loki. "Apologies, brother," he whispered softly. "I did not… I did not intend to cause you such harm." Loki blew out a small breath. "Trust me, brother, that was nothing," he said, and realised a little too late that that might not make Thor feel much better. He winced slightly, but his brother only tightened his grip gently before releasing him and looking him in the eyes. "I am to go with Fury to Asgard, once the announcing is done, and you will go with the Man of Iron," Thor told him seriously, then moved to stand by him as Fury began announcing the results.

Captain, of course, had come first. Black Widow, second. Stark and Banner – working together – had come joint third with three of them shared displeased looks. Thor came last, of course, and Loki smiled at his dejected face. But then Fury announced that, "Though the best pancakes were made by Steve, there was one delectable dish from Loki and Thor when they worked together, and I'd like to offer them honorary joint second place… For that dish alone. And the jam," he added. "The jam was splendid." Thor beamed, and Black Widow gave them a half-annoyed glance, but seemed slightly mollified by the fact that it was honorary, and only for the one dish.

The doors were unlocked, and Loki quickly went outside. The sun was high in the sky. A fresh breeze was blowing. He shuddered lightly as he breathed in cool air properly for the first time – the muzzle, when Thor had put it on, had made it incredibly hard to enjoy the fresh air, and he hadn't really been in a state to appreciate it. But now… He smiled slightly, then turned and nodded to Fury as he and Thor walked past. "Hop in, Barbie," he heard Stark say, and looking behind himself, he saw a small, red car with an open top. He gave a curious glance at Stark – what was a Barbie? – he quickly slid into the back seat, behind Banner, who twisted around and gave him a slightly awkward smile before turning back to the front and beginning a conversation with Stark. Loki didn't listen as the car began moving, and although his mind wanted to think about what was happening in Asgard, he thought instead about the cool air on his face, and waited patiently.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter incoming!**

They pulled up right outside Avengers Tower. Loki had drawn up a nice illusion so people wouldn't recognise him, and it seemed to be working well enough. Tony gallantly held the door open for what appeared to be a tall, dark haired and incredibly handsome man – though for some reason, Tony found he preferred Loki in his own form. Even weak, underfed and scarred, the god cut a fine figure. Well – perhaps not in that state. But he certainly showed promise of cutting a fine figure if he was healthy. He dimly remembered how struck he'd been by Loki's appearance in New York – though of course, he'd been concentrating a little more on the Chitauri side of things at the time. Bruce got out of the passenger side and walked next to Loki back to the Tower. The elevator ride took a silent and slightly awkward thirty seconds, but as soon as they were in the common room Loki relaxed and the illusion faded.

The sight of the scars made him shiver lightly, and he wrinkled his nose. "Do you want a top?" he asked casually, and Loki nodded. Stark turned to the elevator and walked inside. "My rooms," he told JARVIS, and once he arrived, he hunted through his wardrobe until he found a simple blank t-shirt, that was a little too small for him but would probably hang loosely on Loki. He shrugged and took it, wandering back downstairs and handing it to the god, who nodded gratefully and pulled it on. It did, indeed, hang a little loosely on him, but at least it hid the scars. Not that Tony minded, but Loki had seemed incredibly self-conscious about them, and he had a feeling the god wouldn't relax until he was at least a little hidden from prying eyes.

The atmosphere in the room was still tense. Loki seemed unwilling to talk to anyone, and as time went by, he seemed to grow more and more nervous. Presently, Bruce, sitting down in an armchair, stifled a huge yawn. "You can go and rest, Brucey," he told him. "I'll stay here until Fury come back." Bruce looked very much like he lacked the energy to answer, and simply nodded mutely and all but dragged himself over to the elevator. Loki shifted slightly from the sofa, and Tony could have sworn he'd relaxed just a little further, though he still seemed incredibly nervous. One of his long fingers was tapping against the edge of the sofa. "Want a drink?" Tony asked him, though he didn't get up, already guessing Loki would refuse – which he did with a shake of his head.

"Do you think he will let me?" Loki burst out quite suddenly, face clouded over with a strange sort of misery. "Stay, I mean?" he clarified. Tony narrowed his eyes. "He better," he muttered. Though he was still not fully at ease around the god of mischief, he couldn't help wanting to help him. The words didn't seem to make Loki feel any better – he slumped down against the sofa with a half-defeated look about him. Tony sighed and crossed over to sit next to Loki.

"Look," he began carefully. "If Odin doesn't see why you did what you did, he's a fool. And not just because of that, but because he would have disagreed with Fury. Not a good option. And he would have disagreed with us – with the Avengers – which is an even worse option." Tony patted Loki's hand. "We'll sort it out, reindeer games." Loki blinked slowly then offered a wan smile. Tony leaned back, satisfied, and closed his eyes as he thought about the fabulous pancake fight, they'd been having.

He must have drifted off at that point, because he was woken by a loud rushing side from outside, and a piercing light from the windows. He grunted and got up. Loki was already hovering anxiously by the window. "Is that them?" Tony asked groggily, and Loki nodded. "JARVIS, let them in," he called to the AI. "Yes, sir," came the response. Loki seemed unfazed by the AI. He simply wrapped his arms tightly around himself and waited, looking at the mouth of the lift with a locked jaw.

"Chill, Loki," Tony felt he had to say. "It'll be good." Loki shrugged, but his grip on himself loosened slightly. And finally, the lift doors slid open, and Thor and Fury stepped out… Along with what must have been another Asgardian. Loki gave out a cry and ran towards her, embracing her tightly. His mother, then. She was a beautiful woman, tall and golden-haired. She gently stroked Loki's shoulder, and Tony had the distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he was intruding upon something private. He turned to Fury and raised a questioning eyebrow. Fury drew him aside, to the other side of the room, leaving Thor, Loki and their mother – Frigga – to talk.

"How'd it go?" asked Tony, and Fury smiled lightly. "Heimdall vouched for us," he said quietly. "He showed Odin some of what he had seen, and…" Fury rubbed his head. "It was… Not pretty." Tony frowned and nodded. "Right. So it was easy enough?" Fury shrugged. "It took a while to get him to even stop trying to throw us out of Asgard. But as soon as Heimdall showed him what had happened… Chaos. Of course, the lady over there insisted on coming back with us. The guards will be dealt with severely. And…" Fury sighed deeply. "Odin admitted he was wrong to have allowed Asgard's hatred for the frost giants fester. He said that he should have realised his son would find out his true heritage one day, and he should have realised he would believe himself a monster." Tony considered it. "It's that bad over there?" he asked quietly. Fury nodded. "Worse than I've ever seen. Most of them think of frost giants as beasts and foul, evil creatures with no morals whatsoever. Of course, Odin knew it wasn't true. But he didn't tell that to anyone, and look at the result." Then, after a moments pause, Fury muttered to himself, "I ******* hate Odin." Tony smiled and nodded, agreeing.

He looked over at what was at this moment a happy family. Frigga seemed almost in tears as she gently ran her fingers over Loki's scars. Thor was frowning with arms crossed, staring at the scars as if they had mortally offended him. Loki was fidgeting impatiently, but there was such relief in his stance that Tony could tell most of it was faked. Eventually, he embraced his mother again, and gave a deep sigh. She murmured something to him, and he shrugged. Frigga crossed over to where Tony and Fury stood, leaving Loki with Thor.

"Thank you," she murmured to them, "Both of you. My son is… Can be rather difficult at times. He tends to hide everything away until it kills him. I thank you for your offer of hospitality." Tony smiled and nodded. "It's no trouble," he said honestly, and Frigga smiled at him. "Stark," she said. "A pleasure to meet you. Are there any rooms where I might stay with Loki for the night?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "Uh, sure," he muttered, then, "JARVIS? Are the spare rooms ready?"

"Indeed they are, sir," JARVIS replied smoothly. Frigga looked up at the ceiling but didn't seem incredibly confused. "This way," Tony said, and led the way to the elevator. Loki followed after Frigga and Thor waved him a quick goodbye. "I will be in my chambers," he rumbled to nobody in particular, and set off towards the stairs to his rooms. Tony found this elevator ride a lot less tense than the last, Frigga occasionally fussing over Loki as if he were a small child. He didn't seem to mind too much – Loki looked like he still needed a good rest and a massive meal.

He led them quickly to the spare rooms, and was about to turn to leave, before Frigga called out, "Stark?" He turned and looked. "Please, stay for a while. I might have need of you." Tony shrugged and walked in. "Mother," Loki grumbled, but Frigga cut him off with a quick, "Shut up, Loki darling," and sat him down firmly on the bed. "Shirt off," she told him, and he obeyed.

Tony hovered in the corner and watched as Frigga began running a hand down his back, tendrils of green seeping from he fingers. Slowly, ever so slowly, the wounds began to knit together. Tony watched with wide eyes. If only he could figure out how that worked, he might be able to replicate it… The energy signals of magic, if he had those… His mind began whirring. Slowly, slowly, the wounds healed, and Loki was left with nothing but thin white scars forming a strangely beautiful pattern across his back. "Leg," Frigga commanded after some time, and Loki twisted so she could unwrap the bandages and tut over the state of his leg. Tony winced as he saw it. Frigga pressed a gentle hand over it and concentrated deeply for a few moments. When she lifted her hand, the knee wasn't healed by a long stretch, and still looked painful, but it was no longer shattered and bloody, and the skin had flowed together cleanly enough.

"There," she murmured quietly. Loki made to get up, but Frigga pulled him back firmly. "Nu-uh," she told him. "You are staying here. Rest." Loki frowned and seemed about to complain, so Frigga rolled her eyes and placed a hand on his head. She caught him as he fell back and laid him gently down on the bed.

"Thank you for your patience, Stark," she told him, and he shrugged. "What did you want me here for?" he asked curiously. Frigga smiled. "I thought you might like to see how magic worked. And, of course, though I will be leaving within the week, I am sure Loki will allow you to study his magic. Earth could benefit from it." She smiled at him gently. "That was all I wanted you for," she said, and Tony understood the dismissal and quickly left the room, closing the door gently behind him.

He went down to the common room where Fury was waiting patiently. "Director," he greeted him, and Fury turned around with a raised eyebrow. Tony shrugged. "She just wanted me to watch he heal him." Fury raised his eyebrow all the higher. "_Heal _him?" he asked. Tony shrugged. "I don't think Loki was able to heal himself," he replied, with just a touch of sarcasm. "But he'll still need to eat more." Fury nodded.

"When Heimdall showed Odin what had happened, he did it like a movie, on the wall." Fury paused succinctly. "They did all sorts down there in the dungeons," he said finally. "Heimdall… He assured us that had not been the worst. But they… One of the things they did was put him in a metal box – like a coffin, standing upright – and then heat the box." Fury shuddered. "He literally begged for death," he whispered. "And when he found out he was alive, he begged Heimdall to tell no-one, using his birth-right as prince to make it an order." Fury shook his head and smiled grimly. "Stubborn ***," he muttered. "Stark, I'm telling you this because you'll be looking after him." Fury gazed at him. "Make sure he's eating. I don't believe he was fed often – if ever – anything that wasn't a poison or poisoned."

Tony shuddered and took a deep breath. "Right," he muttered to himself. "That's…" His resolve broke and he swallowed hard. "That's awful, what they did." Fury nodded. "Be glad you didn't see it," he said in a quiet voice. Tony nodded.

"I think you'll get on with him," Fury said after a while. Tony looked at him, surprised. "Me? Why?" Fury gave a twisted grin. "Narcissistic, sarcastic genius," was all he said, before sweeping out of the room. "Did you just call me a genius?" Tony called out after him, and he saw the director shaking his head and hiding a smile before he rounded the corner. Tony chuckled to himself, then decided he might as well get some rest. Making pancakes for two solid days was exhausting.


	10. Chapter 10

**El Ending!**

**Again, this was just a short story, but I hope you enjoyed it!**

Over the months, Frigga became a frequent visitor to Midgard. The authorities eventually learned to deal with the Asgardians that occasionally came down to Earth, realising it would be preferable to have them as allies rather than as enemies. Loki, however, was the only one of them that stayed, rather than returning to Asgard. He often went away for a week or two with Frigga whenever she visited – to learn healing magic, and to help her heal others. He usually travelled with he to poorer countries, or war-torn ones – once coming back with a bullet wound, to Tony's displeasure. He had arrived back from just such a trip – appearing right behind Tony as he concentrated on the plans for his magic receptor. He figured that if he could find out how to pick up on magic, he'd be able to find out how to replicate it, and use it to heal people quickly and easily.

"Hello, Stark," Loki murmured in his melodious voice, and Tony started before grinning and relaxing as he realised who it was that had appeared behind him. "Hey," he greeted Loki, taking off the glasses he had been working in. He rubbed his head and looking at his watch, realised the alarming number of hours he had spent in the workshop. Looking up at Loki, he saw the familiar saddened frown on his face that he always had when returning from his trips. "How was it?" He asked him.

Loki shrugged, and the world twisted around them. Tony suddenly found himself and Loki sitting on the sofa in the common room. A favourite trick of Loki's. "Exhausting," Loki yawned, then stretched and got up, walking to the counter. "Coffee?" He asked. Tony shrugged and nodded. He'd been messing in the workshop for too long, and a coffee sounded perfect right now. Besides, making it would distract Loki at least a little bit. His thought turned to the magic receptor, and he decided to ask Loki the dreaded question. He ran a hand through his hair, then said, "Would you mind doing another test run for me?"

Loki gave him a wide-eyed glance. "Not… Today," he replied, then somewhat reluctantly, "Tomorrow." Tony winced. The last time they'd tested the receptor, it had not only nearly set on fire, but had also drained a substantial amount of Loki's magic before they had managed to shut it down. Which had been surprisingly hard, and left Loki shocked and shaking. He'd made a lot of adjustments since then, finding out why it could have malfunctioned and tweaking all the bits and bobs.

"It won't be a repeat of last time, I promise," he told Loki grimly. Then, because he could see Loki needed to talk about it, "What've you been up to?"

Loki set two mugs of coffee onto the table and sighed deeply before sitting down. "We went to… Well, I'm not sure where exactly, but… It was after another war and…" Tony frowned and nodded.

"It's awful, isn't it?" he said quietly, and Loki nodded. "You know I used to make weapons. As soon as I realised what war was actually like…" Loki smiled gently at him.

"You stopped," he murmured. "I'm glad I can do at least a little for the people left behind." He sipped his coffee slowly, then set it down again. "Actually, Frigga and I are planning to take a team of healers to Midgard." Tony raised an eyebrow.

"They'd come here?" he asked, half inclined to believe that out of all of Asgard, only Thor, Loki and Frigga had any care for Midgard. Odin certainly hadn't seemed to care about anyone but Asgard and his throne. But Loki nodded easily. "It is considered an honour for healers. But we did not realise the state of some parts of Midgard… It is so much better than it was, though, and for that we may be glad."

Tony shuddered at the things he imagined Loki must have seen. Every time he left on one of these trips, he came back quiet and thoughtful, to the point of depressed. Tony, too, found himself wondering what it must be like, and wanting desperately to do something to help. Bruce, of course, was absolutely in awe of Frigga, and had accompanied them on a few trips, though he hadn't been able to make it to this one. Busy with some of Fury's business, he thought. "What was the worst?" He asked carefully, seeing Loki's furrowed brow and empty gaze. The god began speaking slowly.

"All of it was the worst. But I remember, a little girl. Seven, eight… No more than that. She'd been trapped under the rubble of her house. We found her mother outside…" Tony gathered that the mother had been found dead from Loki's frown. A pause before the god continued. "She was nearly dead. We healed her, but couldn't save her leg. We were…" Loki leaned back and took a shuddering breath. "She woke up just as we carried her past her mother. It was… War does such terrible things."

Then another long pause, and Loki sat up a little straighter. "We took her and some of the other children orphans to Asgard. There is plenty of room, and they will learn to be great healers or poets, or musicians… Whatever they wish. They can come down to Midgard whenever they would like, though many of them, I believe, are already finding themselves at peace."

Tony smiled lightly at the thought of the wonderful chance the children had been given – a new life entirely. And all because of Loki and Frigga – though he recalled that it was first Loki who had suggested to Frigga a trip to heal some of Midgard's most unfortunate. He looked carefully at Loki. "You've changed a great deal," he murmured quietly, looking at the god who was doing everything he could just to help the lives of a few. Loki shrugged and rubbed his head. "The worst thing is, Stark, that sometimes I wish I had never seen those children, the aftermath of your Midgardian wars… There's so much of it."

Tony saw the familiar depression on Loki's face. "You're doing what you can," he soothed him as he always did. "And you know how much of my budget is going towards helping those people." Loki turned and gave him a wan smile.

"Everything is about money to you, is it not?" But a smile was dancing on his face. "Thank you, Stark." He rested his head back. "I'm exhausted," he announced presently. Tony snorted.

"Really?" He asked sarcastically. "I couldn't tell." Loki opened one eye and managed a passable glare. "You up in your rooms as normal?" Loki nodded in response, but didn't seem inclined to move. Tony carried on drinking his coffee until it was all gone and placed the cup regretfully on the table. He waited a few minutes longer, but Loki didn't stir. Eventually, he stood up. The movement seemed to disturb the god, because he opened his eyes and stood smoothly up. There was something tired about his movements – not tired simply because of his magical exertion, but the tiredness that comes of a weary mind.

"I've been seeing the worst of humanity for far too long," he told Tony eventually, and smiled sadly. "I think I'd like to see some of the good." Tony blinked.

"Like what?" He asked, mildly curious as to what Loki could mean. The god drained his coffee before dumping the mug in the sink. He hummed lightly before answering.

"Umm… Perhaps a vacation. Somewhere nice. Cold." Tony blinked and gave a sudden, loud laugh.

"You know, when most people say vacation, they mean somewhere tropical," he chuckled. "But cool idea. Where do you want to go?" He asked. He was glad Loki was finding something else to occupy himself, besides moping around the tower. In answer, Loki shrugged. "I want to enjoy myself. Do _you_ want to go anywhere in particular?" Tony considered it.

"Iceland?" He suggested after a moment's thought. "It's freezing this time of year. I've heard it's nice. Northern lights and all that. Never really been." Loki cocked his head.

"You want to go?" He asked slowly. Tony blinked. He hadn't thought Loki might want him around. He opened his mouth to say his schedule was full and he had no time for the next few months – which was quite true - but then promptly decided, work could go stick itself up Thanos' ass for all he cared. He'd reschedule for Loki. Besides, he'd been working – kind of – for ages. He deserved a break, didn't he? And Loki definitely deserved a break. Tony wasn't going to lie – the god looked more and more miserable after every trip.

"Sure," he replied. "You deserve a break, you look like ****." Loki rolled his eyes.

"Why, thank you," he muttered sarcastically, then murmured, "Frigga tells me I have too much empathy. Especially since… Since Asgard, I find it much easier to relate to people." He managed a grim smile. "If you suffer enough pain, seeing others hurting hurts you more than it does them." Then a brief shake of the head. "You might think you need empathy to be a healer, but they're a hard-hearted lot." Tony shook his head.

"You're amazing, Loki, and you're doing the best you can. But you're killing yourself – in your head – by doing what you're doing. I'd be the same." Loki shook his head stubbornly, but Tony saw the truth in his eyes. "Right," he suddenly said. Loki would be torturing himself about what he had seen for weeks, if he knew him. "Tomorrow. We're going on vacation. JARVIS, sort out any appointments and get the trip ready for us. For two weeks."

"Yes, Sir," answered JARVIS.

"Look at me," Tony said to Loki. The god's eyes were sorrowful, still seeing the pain he had witnessed. "You're right, there's so much suffering out there. If you try and stop it all, you'll never manage. Just be happy with what you have done." A ghost of a smile on Loki's face.

"Satisfaction is not in my nature," he murmured. "I cannot forget it."

"Then help in other ways," Tony pressed. There was a strange terror in him – that he'd lose Loki to this sorrow, this view of only the bad in the world. "Work with me on the magic receptor. We can create way to heal people. We're inventors, Loki. We – you – shouldn't be out there."

"Why not?" Challenged Loki, something almost defensive about his tone now. He crossed his arms tightly around himself, and Tony was displeased to see that over the past two weeks he'd grown decidedly thinner. He must have been working himself to near-death – no wonder he looked so tired. But the sorrow in his eyes was infinitely worse.

"Damn you, Loki," Tony cursed. "Every time you come back from one of them trips you talk and smile less and less, you think I don't see it? Satisfaction is not in your nature… THAT'S THE DAMN PROBLEM! If you were satisfied with what you'd done you'd be happy you achieved so much, but that's not who you are! Stay _here. _You're killing yourself going out there."

Loki was silent, apparently stunned, for a while. "Frigga told me something to that effect," he murmured eventually. "But not as… Forcefully. She always tells me it." He was frowning somewhat uncomfortably, and Tony could tell his words had hit something within the god. He looked almost defeated. Almost.

"Call it selfishness," he told Loki, "Call it what you will, but I don't want to see you miserable, I don't want you to end up that way. You can help just as many people – if not more – here with me." He gazed intently into Loki's eyes before the god looked away, shoulders suddenly slumping. Tony had the distinct feeling the god was about to say something self-deprecating or just downright depressing, so he took the god by the shoulders and steered him towards the elevator. "Come on," he murmured. "You need to get some rest." Loki, thankfully, didn't argue.

The room had been left exactly as it had been when Loki left two weeks ago – with the exception of a robot sent in to do some dusting every few days. Books were scattered on the floor, most of them on healing herbs and some Asgardian ones Frigga had brought him. One shelf seemed dedicated to old literature – Tony noted Charles Dickens as well as some other classics. Plants were growing around the room, white walls in delightful contrast with the dark wooden shelves and deep green plant foliage. It was a beautifully re-decorated room.

Loki sat down on the edge of the bed without complaint, then looked over at Tony. "Do you have the plans for the receptor?" He asked wearily. Tony fought to hide a triumphant grin. "I'll show you them tomorrow, on the plane," he told Loki.

"I can teleport us," the god replied, but Tony shook his head.

"Save your magic," he told Loki. "Just in case the test run fails again." Loki gave a low laugh, before leaning back against the pillow. His face was troubled at first, but slowly relaxed as he drifted into sleep. Tony stayed for a while, listening to him breathing, then left the room quietly, closing the door, before heading down the corridor to his own rooms, intending to get a few hours rest at the very least before doing a last-minute pack – Loki would probably be doing the same. Vacation with Loki was sounding fabulous right now.


End file.
